
Book. 1& 721 





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«? 
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^0 ^ . 



THEIILOG STORIES 



GREAT EEBELLION 



THRILLING STORIES 



GREAT REBELLION 



COMPRISING 

HEROIC ADVENTURES AND HAIR -BREADTH ESCAPES OF SOLDIERS, 
SCOUTS, SPIES, AND REFUGEES; DARING EXPLOITS OF SMUG- 
GLERS, GUERRILLAS, DESPERADOES, AND OTHERS ; TALES 
OF LOYAL AND DISLOYAL WOMEN ; STORIES OF 
THE NEGRO, ETC. ETC. 



WITH roCIDENTS OF FUN AND MEREBIENT IN CAMP AND FIELD. 
BY A DISABLED OFFICER. 



itt miusiXKtions. 



PHILADELPHIA: 

PUBLISHED BY JOHN E. JOTTER, 

No. 617 SANSOM STREET. 

1864. 



Entered according to the Act of Congress, in the year 1864, hy 

JOHN E. POTTER, 

in the Office of the Clerk of the District Court of the United States in 
and for the Eastern District of the State of Pennsylvania. 



^ 



V 



& 



'^^: 



PREFACE 



In the quick succession of surprising events which have 
characterized our country's history since the outbreak of the 
great rebellion, it has been beyond the power of any one to 
retain more than fragmentary, disconnected impressions of 
scenes and incidents which would prove a valuable addition 
to one's stock of information, could they but be permanently 
located in memory's storehouse. 

Detailed histories and official records must, of necessity, 
be resorted to for the graver and weightier matters connected 
with our present struggle for a national existence ; of such, 
fortunately, there bids fair to be no lack. The earnest inquirer 
after the outline facts of the contest will be at no loss to 
discover a variety of sources whence he may glean all that 
he desires. 

Of the comparatively minor movements in the great 
drama, however, there exists, at present, nothing which can 
be regarded as a fitting repository. While the deeds and 
misdeeds of the more prominent actors on the busy stage are 
chronicled in formal phrases of eulogium or censure, the 
almost innumerable multitude of incidents of adventure and 
daring — the items of personal endurance and suffering — the 
details of peril by flood and field — the rollicking, luxuriant 
humor of the camp, cropping out in word and act — the hero- 
ism of the hospital — the devotion of friendship — indeed, the 
large majority of individual cases, among the less known 
and famous, which, in reality, serve to make the present war 

(5) 



6 PREFACE. 

what it is — have thus far been consigned, if noticed at all, 
to the columns of the newspaper, one day read and the 
next day forgotten, or to the pages 6f the letter, intended for 
but few eyes. 

This ought not so to be. He who would form a correct 
opinion as to the present rebellion as a whole, must carefully 
examine the various parts which compose it. In this view^t 
scarcely anything bearing upon the contest can be deemed 
insignificant or trivial, nothing, certainly, " common or un- 
clean." 

To rescue this class of incidents from oblivion, to present 
them in an attractive garb, carefully discriminating between 
fact and fancy, to collect what else would be fugitive and 
ephemeral in a permanent and acceptable form — these were 
the objects contemplated in the preparation of the following 
pages. 

They cannot fail to prove of interest to all. They narrate 
of our common humanity, when most sorely tried and tempted, 
whose manifestations have ever, since man was, stirred tha 
blood and enkindled the heart. They record deeds in sym- 
pathy with which "the common pulse of man keeps time." 

Not a moment of the hours of enforced leisure which have 
been directed to the selection, condensation, and arrangement 
of the pages which follow is regretted by the compiler. He 
knows not that he could have been better or more pleasantly 
employed. 

To the thousands of loyal men and women, whose prayers, 
wishes, and efforts go forth so earnestly and incessantly for 
the cause of right and truth, the cause of our common coun- 
try, and of man wherever found, this book is submitted, 
with the confident assurance that it contains much, at least, 
that all desire to remember, and little, if any, that deserves 
to be forgotten. 



CONTENTS. 



• 






PAGE 


The Great Railroad Adventure . . . .11 


A Prophetic Presentiment 






. 19 


Adventure of a Spy 






. 20 


The Negro Tillman's Narrative 






. 22 


Zagonyi's Famous Charge 






. 26 


The Fearful Ordeal 






. 40 


The Frightened Speculators . 






. 41 


The Daring Spy ... * 






. 43 


Little Eddie, the Drummer-boy 






. 55 


Old Ben, the Mounftiin Scout . 


. 




. 60 


Surrounding Five of Them 






. 71 


Army Wings, as explained by one of the Boys 






. 71 


Irish Wit Ever Ready . 






. 72 


Miss Oldom, the Kentucky Heroine . 






. 73 


Fighting on His own Hook 


* 




. 74 


Dahlgren's Famous Dash 






, 81 


A Fighting Parson . 




. 


83 


Taking it Coolly . . , , 






85 


Too Much for Her . . . 






85 


A Nameless Spy 






86 


A Daring Deed ..... 






92 



(1) 



CONTENTS. 



Wouldn't Sell . 

The Irish Sentinel 

Gi)od for the Belgians 

The Hollow-Heeled Boot 

Presence of Mind 

An Ingenious Dodge 

Old Gap of Tennessee 

Going the Whole Hog 

Pidn't Like It . 

A Practical Joke 

Praying for the President 

The Quakers on the War-Path 

The Scout's Story 

In the Shenandoah Yalley 

Incidents of a Fight 

A Heroic Sailor 

Adventure of Killdare the Scout 

The Night of the Battle of Ball's Bluff 

Incidents of Fort Pickens 

A Strange Sight in Battle 

Heroism in the Hospital 

Impudent Coolness 

Joe Parsons the Maryland Boy 

A Loyal Pigeon 

Gathering in the Contrabands 

John Morgan's Female Spy 

Incidents of Grierson's Raid 

Eddy McFadden 

A Brave Boy and Gallant Sailor 

Characteristic Incident 



^ CONTENTS. 








9 


PAGE 


Sallie Richmond and Devil Bill . . . .165 


Kentuck against Kentuck 








. 175 


The Scout's Revenge . 








. 176 


Why the Lieutenant Ate the Pie 








. 189 


A Gallant Lad . 








. 191 


On the Cumberland 








. 192 


A Chat about Stone River 








. 193 


The Wrong Leg 








. 195 


What it cost to be Loyal 








. 195 


A Desperate Hand-to-Hand Contest 








. 198 


Fists against Muskets . 








. 199 


Killed in Action 








. 199 


Drawing Rations 








. 204 


Hadn't Heard of the War 








205 


An Impromptu Duel 








206 


How Ike Barker was Whipped 








208 


Life at Elk Horn Tavern 








213 


Escape from Libby Prison 








223 


Adventures of an Arkansas Refugee 








229 


How the Secesh took Clark Wright 








239 


A Race for Life 








243 


Pluck on the Frontier . 








248 


A Night Adventure on the Potomac 








258 


The Tennessee Blacksmith 








266 


A Conflict with Desperadoes . 




, 




274 


Stealing a March 








279 


A Darkey in the Air 








286 


The Fourteenth at Gettysburg . 






^ 


287 


The Way Joe Allen Buried Vandegrift 






.0?3 


Bragg and his High Private . 








^98 



10 CONTENTS. 








PAGE 


The Eight Man in the Eight Place . . . .299 


The Fight at Brandy . 






. 304 


Not the Eight " Sanders " 






. 311 


The Sharpshooter's Story 






. 317 


The Prose of Battles . 






. 326 


A Thrilling Scene in Tennessee 


,.» 




. 340 


The Bogus Kentucky Unionist 






. 343 


A Contraband's Idea of War , 






. 353 


The Traitor Wagon-Master » 






. 355 


A Cute Darkey 






.^ . 364 


Not Used to It . 






.364 


Newcomer the Scout . 






. 365 



kef 



THEILLING STOEIES 



GEEAT REBELLION 



THE GEEAT EAUEOAD ADYENTUEE. 

The expedition whicli is here recorded had, in the 
daring of its conception, the wildness of a romance; 
"while in the gigantic and overwhelming results which it 
sought and, was likely to accomplish it was absolutely 
gublime. 

In April; 1862, the rebel forces in the west, under 
Beauregard, were concentrated at Corinth, Miss., with 
smaller detachments scattered along the railroad to Chat- 
tanooga, Tenn. The railroads on which he relied for 
supplies and reinforcements, as well as for communica- 
tion with the eastern portion of rebeldom, formed an irreg- 
ular parallelogram, of which the northern side extended 
from Memphis, Tenn., to Chattanooga ; the eastern from 
Chattanooga to Atlanta, Ga. ; the southern from Atlanta 
to Jackson, Miss. ; and the western, by a network of roads, 
from Jackson to Memphis. The Great East Tennessee 
and Virginia R. R. intersected this parallelogram at Chat- 
tanooga. By the obstruction of the northern and eastern 
sides of this parallelogram Beauregard was isolated, and 
East Tennessee, then in possession of the rebels, made 
readily accessible to the Government forces. 

A second military expedition was accordingly set on 
foot, in that month, under the authority and direction of 

(11) 



12 THE GREAT RAILROAD ADVENTURE. 

Gen. 0. M. Mitchell, whose division was then at Shelby- 
ville, Tenn., for the purpose of destroying the communi- 
cation on the Georgia State E. E., between Atlanta and 
Chattanooga. The expedition comprised twenty -three 
men, under the lead of J. J. Andrews, a Kentuckian, 
and the originator of the enterprise, who, with a single 
exception, a Kentuckian, who acted as the substitute of 
a soldier, had been selected from different companies in 
Gen. M.'s division for their known courage and discretion. 

The mode of operation proposed was to reach a point 
on the road where they could seize a locomotive and train 
of cars, and then dash back in the direction of Chatta- 
nooga, cutting the telegraph wires and burning the 
bridges behind them as they advanced; until they 
reached their own lines. 

All understood that the service was secret and danger- 
ous, and that if they were caught, hanging would probably 
be their lot. The whole party, accordingly, were disguised 
in citizen's dress, and on the seventh of April left camp, 
at Shelbyville, and made for Manchester, Tenn. Great 
difficulty was experienced in passing their own pickets, 
and several were near being shot. At Manchester they 
represented themselves as Kentuckians on their way to 
Chattanooga to join the rebel army. After leaving that 
point they fell in with rebel sympathizers, who furnished 
them with letters and passes to their friends in Chatta- 
nooga. At this time the party divided into squads of 
two and four, and started ahead of each other, all, how- 
ever, with the same story as to their ultimate object. 

After five days the party met at Chattanooga, and at 
once took the cars for Marietta., Ga. Before leaving 
Andrews divided among them seven hundred dollars of 
Confederate script, and told them that they were soon to 
enter upon their dangerous duty, but the first man that 
got drunk or flinched in the least, he would shoot him 
dead on the spot ; that the object must be accomplished, 
or they must leave their bones in Dixie. 



THE GKEAT RAILROAD ADVENTURE. 13 

After a journey of about eighteen hours, they arrived 
at Marietta, Ga., and put up at a tavern. The next 
morning before daylight they again took the cars, and 
went back the same road to a place called Big Shanty, a 
refreshment saloon on the line of the Georgia and Atlanta 
State Koad, where were encamped about twenty thousand 
Confederate troops. It was the general rendezvous for 
recruits and the organization of regiments. The train 
contained a number of soldiers as well as citizens, together 
with a quantity of provisions, and an iron safe containing 
a large amount of Confederate script, to pay the troops 
at Corinth. This portion of the road is built over innu- 
merable creeks and rivers, and crosses the Tennessee 
Eiver at Bridgeport, where a fine bridge is erected. 

The whole party, consisting of twenty, left the cars and 
divided into squads of three and four, taking stations on 
each side of the train, Andrews stationing himself at the 
coupling-pin of the third car. A number of the party 
were engineers, and -thoroughly understood the business 
on hand. One of the engineers was at his post, and found 
everything all right. All hands now mounted the cars, 
although the guard was within three feet of them; the 
word was given, Andrews drew the coupling-pin, and 
cried all right. 

The train, now consisting of three cars and the engine, 
was started off with as little noise as possible. They soon 
lost sight of the lights at Big Shanty, and at the first 
curve the train was stopped, and one of the party climbed 
the telegraph-pole and cut the wires. They then started, 
and the next point tore up the track, and took a rail with 
them on the car ; and thus they continued, tearing up the 
track and cutting the wires on the other side, after pass- 
ing a town. Unfortunately, however, the train was run- 
ning in a very slow schedule, and they were compelled 
to switch off and let the down-train pass. At the first 
station this occurred, the engineer of the road made his 
appearance, and was about to step on the engine, when 



14 THE GREAT RAILROAD ADVENTURE. 

Andrews told him he could not come on board, as this 
was an extra train to run through to Corinth, and the 
present party were engaged to carry "it there, and in sup- 
port of the assertion the iron safe was shown. This ap- 
parently satisfied the engineer, and they took in wood 
and water, and again started. A second time they were 
compelled to switch off, and in order to get the switch- 
keys, Andrews, who knew the road well, went into the 
station and took them from the office. This caused con- 
siderable excitement, but it was quieted in a measure by 
stating that the train contained gunpowder for Beaure- 
gard, at Corinth, and soon after they again started. 

About twenty miles south of Dalton, Ga., they came 
to a bridge, and here set fire to one of the cars, piled on 
wood, and left it on the bridge, designing to set it on fire 
also. At this time the engineer at the Eome branch, sus- 
pecting that all was not right, started up the track, found 
the rails torn up, and immediately returned to the junc- 
tion, and took on board a quantity of loose rails, and fol- 
lowed after. Where they had torn up the rails he im- 
mediately laid oAe, and without stopping to fasten it, 
started over slowly, and gave chase. Soon he came to 
the bridge with the burning car, which had not yet caught 
the bridge. In the mean time they had switched off to 
let an express pass, which train was duly informed of 
their character by discovering the track torn up, and 
stopped, but was soon joined by the Eome engineer, who 
had succeeded in turning the burning car off the bridge. 
They then both started in pursuit, laying the track as 
they went along, which they could do in a much shorter 
time than the expedition could tear it up. 

Tl^us it was they overtook them at work ; and as soon 
as they found themselves discovered, speed was their only 
hope, and at it they went ; but unfortunately their fuel 
was nearly out, and it was then determined to leave the 
engine and take to the woods. Accordingly, they stop- 
ped and reversed her, intending she should run back 



THE GREAT RAILROAD ADVENTURE. 15 

upon their pursuers ; but in this they failed, as she had 
not sufficient steam to turn her over, and the object of 
the adventurers thus failed from a colnbination of unfor- 
tunate circumstances. Ten minutes more would have set 
the bridge on fire, and the Eome engineer, with the rails, 
could not have followed them, and the down express was 
entirely useless. It was their intention to have destroyed 
all the bridges, run into Chattanooga, wait until the even- 
ing train passed, and then gone on to Bridgeport, destroyed 
the bridge over the Tennessee Eiver, and then away for 
Huntsville, to join General Mitchell. 

Their troubles now commenced, and the greatest of all 
their disasters was the division of their party ; 'twas now 
every man for himself. 

So soon as they had left the cars, and dispersed them- 
selves in the woods, the population of the country around 
turned out in their pursuit, employing for this purpose 
the dogs which are trained to hunt down the fugitive 
slaves of the South. The whole twenty -two were cap- 
tured. Among them was private Jacob Parrot, of Co. 
K, Thirty-third Kegiment Ohio Yolunteers. When ar- 
rested, he was, without any form of trial, taken possession 
of by a military officer and four soldiers, who stripped 
him, bent him over a stone, and while two pistols were 
held over his head, a lieutenant in rebel uniform inflicted 
with a rawhide upwards of a hundred lashes on his bare 
back. This was done in the presence of an infuriated 
crowd, who clamored for his blood, and actually brought 
a rope with which to hang him. The object of this pro- 
longed scourging was to force this young man to confess 
to them the objects of the expedition and the names of 
his comrades, especially that of the engineer who had run 
the train. Their purpose Was, no doubt, not only to take 
the life of the latter if identified, but to do so with every 
circumstance of humiliation and torture which they could 
devise. 

Three times, in the progress of this horrible flogging, 



16 THE GREAT RAILROAD ADVENTURE. 

it was suspended; and Mr. Parrot was asked if lie would 
not confess ; but, steadily and firmly to the last, lie re- 
fused all disclosures, and it was not till Ms tormentors 
were weary of their brutal work that the task of subduing 
their victim was abandoned as hopeless. 

The twenty-two captives, when secured, were thrust 
into the negro-jail of Chattanooga. They occupied a 
single room, half under ground, and but thirteen feet 
square, so that there was not space enough for them all 
to lie down together, and a part of them were, in conse- 
quence, obliged to sleep sitting and leaning against the 
walls. The only entrance was through a trap-door in the 
ceiling, that was raised twice a day to let down their 
scanty meals, which were lowered in a bucket. They 
had no other light or ventilation than that which came 
through two small triple-grated windows. They were 
covered with swarming vermin, and the heat was so op- 
pressive that they were often obliged to strip themselves 
entirely of their clothes to bear it. Add to this, they 
were all handcuffed, and, with trace-chains secured by 
padlocks around their necks, were fastened to each other 
in companies of twos and threes. Their food, which was 
doled out to them twice a day, consisted of a little flour 
wet with water and baked in the form of bread, and 
spoiled pickled' beef. They had no opportunity of pro- 
curing any supplies from the outside, nor had they any 
means of doing so — their pockets *having been rifled of 
their last cent by the Confederate authorities, prominent 
among whom was an officer wearing the rebel uniform of 
a major. No part of the money thus basely taken was 
ever returned. 

During this imprisonment at Chattanooga their leader, 
Mr. Andrews, was tried and condemned as a spy, and 
was subsequently executed at Atlanta, the seventh of 
June. They were strong and in perfect health when they 
entered this negro-jail, but at the end of something more 
than three weeks, when \h.ej were required to leave it, 



THE GREAT RAILROAD ADVENTURE. IT 

they were so exhausted from the treatment to which they 
had beea subjected, as scarcely to be able to walk, and 
several staggered from weakness as they passed through 
the street to the cars. 

Finally, twelve of the number were transferred to the 
prison of Knoxville, Tenn. On arriving there, seven of 
them were arraigned before a court-martial, charged with 
being spies. Their trial of course was-summary. They 
were permitted to be present, but not to hear either the 
argument of their own counsel or that of the judge-advo- 
cate. 

Soon thereafter all the prisoners' were removed to At- 
lanta, and they left Knoxville under a belief that their 
comrades, who had been tried, either had been or would 
be acquitted. 

On the eighteenth of June, after their arrival at Atlan- 
ta, where they rejoined the comrades from whom they 
had been separated at Chattanooga, their prison-door was 
opened, and the death-sentences of the seven who had 
been tried at Knoxville were read to them. ISTo time for 
preparation was allo-v^ed them. They were told to bid 
their friends farewell, " and to be quick about it." They 
were at once tied and carried out to execution. Among 
the seven was private Samuel Eobinson, Co. G-, Thirty- 
third Ohio Volunteers, who was too ill to walk. He was, 
however, pinioned like the rest, and in this condition was 
dragged from the floor on which he was lying to the 
scaftbld. In an hour or more the cavalry escort, which 
had accompanied them, was seen returning with the cart, 
but the cart was empty — the tragedy had been consum- 
mated I 

On that evening and the following morning the pri- 
soners learned front the provost marshal and guard that 
their comrades had died, as all true soldiers of the Re- 
public should die, in the presence of its enemies. Among 
the revolting incidents which they mentioned in connec- 
tion with this cowardly butchery, was the fall of two of 
2 



18 THE GREAT RAILROAD ADVENTURE. 

the victims from the breaking of the ropes after they had 
been for some time suspended. On their being re- 
stored to consciousness, they begged for an hour in 
which to pray and to prepare for death, but this was re- 
fused them. The ropes were readjusted, and the execution 
at once proceeded. 

' Among those who thus perished was private Alfred 
"Wilson, Co. C, Twenty- first Ohio Yolunteers. He was a 
mechanic from Cincinnati, who, in the exercise of his 
trade, had travelled much through the States, north and 
south. Though surrounded by a scowling crowd, impa- 
tient for his sacrifice, he did not hesitate while standing 
under the gallows to make them a brief* address. He 
told them that though they were all wrong, he had no 
hostile feelings towards the Southern people, believing 
that not they but their leaders were responsible for the 
rebellion ; that he was no spy, as charged, but a soldier 
regularly detailed for military duty ; that he did not re- 
gret to die for his country, but only regretted the manner 
of his death ; and he added, for their admonition, that 
they would yet see the time when the old Union would 
be restored, and when its flag would wave over them 
again. And with these words the brave man died. He, 
like his comrades, calmly met the ignoniinious doom of 
a felon — but, happily, ignominious for him and for them 
only so far as the martyrdom of the patriot and the hero 
can be degraded by the hands of ruffians and traitors. 

The remaining prisoners, now reduced to fourteen, 
were kept closely confined under special .guard, in the 
jail at Atlanta, until October, when, overhearing a con- 
versation between the jailer and another officer, they be- 
came satisfied that it was the purpose of the authorities 
to hang them, as they had done their companions. This 
led them to form a plan for their escape, which they car- 
ried into execution on the evening of the next day, by 
seizing the jailer when he opened the door to carry away 
the bucket in which their supper had been brought. 



A PROPHETIC PRESENTIMENT. '19 

This was followed by the seizure also of the seven guards 
on duty, and before the alarm was given eight of the fugi- 
tives were beyond the reach of pursuit. Six of these, 
after long and painful wanderings, succeeded in reaching 
the Union Lines. Of the fate of the other two nothing is 
known. 

The remaining six of the fourteen were recaptured and 
confined in the barracks, until December, when they were 
removed to Richmond. There they were shut up in a 
room in Castle Thunder, where they shivered through 
the winter, without fire, thinly clad, and with but two 
small blankets, which they had saved with their clothes, 
to cover the whole party. So they remained until they 
were exchanged, at the end of eleven months. 



A PEOPHETIO PEESENTIMEUT. 

While Col. Osterhaus was gallantly attacking the centre 
of the enemy on the second day of the battle of Pea Ridge, 
Ark., a sergeant of the Twelfth Missouri requested the 
captain of his company to send his wife's portrait, which 
he had taken from his bosom, to her address in St. Louis, 
with his dying declaration that he thought of her in his 
last moment. 

" What is that for ?" asked the captain. " You are not 
wounded, are you ?" 

" No," answered the sergeant ; " but I know I shall be 
killed to-day. I have been in battle before, but I never 
felt as I do now. -A moment ago I became convinced 
my time had come, but how, I cannot tell. Will you 
gratify my request ? Remember, I speak to you as a 
dying man." 

" Certainly, my brave fellow ; but you will live to a 
good old age with your wife. Do not grow melancholy 
over a fancy or a dream." 

" You will see," was the response. 



20 ADVENTURE OF A SPY. 

The picture cTianged hands. The sergeant stepped for- 
ward to the front of the column, and the captain per- 
ceived him no more. 

At the camp-fire that evening the officer inquired for 
the sergeant. He was not present. He had been killed 
three hours before by a grape-shot from one of the enemy's 
batteries. 



ADYENTUEE OP A SPY. 

It was a dark night. Not a star on the glimmer. 
The spy had collected his quotum of intelligence, and 
was on the move for the Northern lines. He was ap- 
proaching the banks of a stream whose waters had to be 
crossed, and had then some miles to traverse before he 
could reach the pickets of the Union troops. A -feeling 
of uneasiness began to creep over him ; he was on the 
outskirt of a wood fringing the dark waters at his feet, 
whose presence could scarcely be detected but for their 
sullen murmurs as they rushed through the gloom. The 
wind sighed in gentle accordance. He walked forty or 
fifty yards along the bank. He then crept on all-fours 
along the ground and groped with his hands. He 
paused — he groped again — his breath thickened, perspi- 
ration oozed from every pore, and he was prostrated with 
horror I He had missed his landmark, and knew not 
where he was. Below or above, beneath the shelter of 
the bank, lay the skiff he had hidden ten days before 
when he commenced his operations among the followers 
of Jeff*. Davis. 

As he stood gasping for breath, with all the unmis- 
takable proofs of his calling about him, the sudden cry 
of a bird or plunging of a fish would act like magnetism 
on his frame, not wont to shudder at a shadow. No 
matter how pressing the danger may be, if a man sees an 
opportunity for escape, he breathes with freedom. But 



ADVENTURE OF A SPY. 21 

let him be snrrounded by darkness, impenetrable at two ' 
yards' distance, within rifle's length of concealed foes, for 
what knowledge he has to the contrary ; knowing, too, • 
with painful accuracy, the detection of his presence would 
reward him with a sudden and violent death, and if he 
breathes no faster, and feels his limbs as free and his spi- 
rits as light as when taking a favorite promenade, he is 
more fitted for a hero than most. 

In the agony of that moment — in the sudden and utter 
helplessness he felt to discover his true bearings — he was 
about to let himself gently into the stream, and breast 
its current, for life and death. There was no alternative. 
The Northern pickets must be reached in safety b^fo- 
the morning broke, or he would soon swing bet\x- 
heaven and earth, from some green limb of the K 
forest in which he stood. ^^ 

At that moment the low, sullen bay of a bloodhound 
struck his ear. The sound was reviving — the fearful 
stillness broken. The uncertain dread flew before the 
certain danger. He was standing to his middle in the 
shallow bed of the river, just beneath the jutting banks. 
After a pause of a few seconds he began to creep mecha- 
nically and stealthily down the stream, followed, as he 
knew from the rustling of the grass and frequent break- 
ing of twigs, by the insatiable brute ; although by certain 
uneasy growls he felt assured the beast was at fault. 
Something struck against the spy's breast. He could not 
prevent a slight cry from escaping him, as, stretching out 
his hand, he grasped the gunwale of a boat moored be- 
neath the bank. Between surprise and joy he felt half 
choked. In an instant he had scrambled on board and 
began to search for the painter in the bow, in order to 
cast her from her fastenings. 

Suddenly a bright ray of moonlight — the first gleam . 
of hope in that black night — fell directly on the spot, 
revealing the silvery stream, his own skiff (hidden there 
ten days before), lighting the deep shadows of the verging 



22 THE NEGRO TILLMAN'S NARRATIVE. 

wood, and on the log half buried in the bank, and from 
which he had that instant cast the line that had bound 
him to it, the supple form of the crouching bloodhound, 
his red eyes gleaming in the moonlight, jaws distended, 
and poising for the spring. With one dart the light skiff 
was yards out in the stream, and the savage after it. 
"With an oar the spy aimed a blow at his head, which, 
however, he eluded with ease. In the effort thus made, 
the boat careened over towards his antagonist, who 
made a desperate effort to get his forepaws over the side, 
at the same time seizing the gunwale with his teeth. 

Now or never was the time to get rid of the accursed 
""'Yute. The spy drew his revolver, and placed the muzzle 
•was een the beast's eyes, but hesitated to fire; for that 
pro? report might bring on him a volley from the 
cr'-'e. Meantime the strength of the dog careened the 
irail craft so much that the water rushed over the side, 
threatening to swamp her. He changed his tactics, threw 
his revolver into the bottom of the skiff, and grasping 
his " bowie," keen as a Malay creese, and glittering as he 
released it from the sheath, like a moonbeam on the 
stream. In an instant he had severed the sinewy throat 
of the hound, cutting through the brawn and muscle to 
the nape of the neck. The tenacious wretch gave a wild, 
convulsive leap half out of the water, then sank, and was 
gone. 

Five minutes' pulling landed the spy on the other 
side of the river, and in an hour after, without further 
accident, he was among friends, encompassed by the 
Northern lines. 



THE ^EGEO TILLMAN'S NAEEATIYE. 

The schooner S. J. Waring had started on a voyage to 
Buenos Ayres, in Montevideo, with an assorted cargo, 
which, with the vessel, was valued at a hundred thousan'd 



THE NEGRO TILLMAN'S NARRATIVE. 23 

dollars. There were on board tlie captain and mate; 
William Tillman, steward, a native of Delaware, 27 years 
old, who has follot^ed the sea for ten years ; Wm. Sted- 
ding, seaman; Donald McLeod/ seaman, of Cape Breton, 
Nova Scotia, 30 years of age; and Bryce Mackinnon, a 
passenger. 

On the 7th of July, 1861, they fell in with the Jeff. 
Davis, and a prize crew of five weje put aboard who 
were unarmed. To nse the language of Tillman, " They 
run ten days and didn't find Charleston. They were, 
however, only fifty miles south of Charleston, and one 
hundred to the eastward. On the voyage they treated 
me the best kind of way and talked the best kilid of 
talk." 

One day the first lieutenant of the pirates was sitting 
in the cabin, cross-legged, smoking, and he said to me — 

" When you go down to Savannah, I want you to go to 
my house, and I will take care of you." 

I thought, continued the negro, "Yes, you will take 
care of me when you get me there." I raised my hat, 
and said — 

" Yes, sir, thank you." 

But afterwards I said to Billy (the German), " I am 
not going to Charleston a live man ; they may take me 
there dead." 

He had been told by the prize-master that he would 
get rewarded in Charleston for performing his duty so 
well in bringing the schooner in. He also heard con- 
versation, not intended for his ears, in regard to the price 
he would probably bring ; and he had heard the prize- 
master say to one of his men — 

" You talk to that steward and keep him in good heart: 

By " said the prize- master, " he will never see the 

North again." 

Tillman conferred with two of the seamen. about taking 
possession of the schooner ; but they declined adopting 
any plan, saying that none of them knew how to navigate 



24 THE NEGRO TILLMAN'S NARRATIVE. 

Iter back should they succeed in getting control. Till- 
man thought the matter over for three days^ and then 
made an appeal to the German, and said, " If you are a 
man to stick to your word, we can take this vessel easy." 

Then we made a plan that I was to go to my berth, 
and when most of the men were asleep he was to give 
me some sign, or awake me. We tried this for two 
nights, but no good chance offered. But last Tuesday 
night we caught them asleep, and we went to work. 

The mate comes to my berth and he touches me. He 
says, " Now is your time." 

I went into my room and got my hatchet. The first 
man I struck was the captain. He was lying in a state- 
room on the starboard side. I aimed for his temple as 
near as I could, and hit him just below the ear with the 
edge of the hatchet. With that he made a very loud 
shriek. 

The passenger jumped up very much in a fright. I 
told him to be still ; I shall not hurt a hair of your head. 
The passenger knew what I was up to ; he never said a 
word more. I walks across the cabin to the second 
mate's room, and I gave him one severe blow in the 
mole of the head — that is, right across the middle of 
his head. I didn't stop to see whether he was dead or 
no; but I jumped on deck, and as I did so, the mate, 
who had been sleeping on the companion-way, started 
from the noise he had heard in the cabin. 

Just as he arose upon his feet, I struck him on the 
back of the head. Then the German chap jumped over, 
and we "mittened" on to him, and flung him over the 
starboard quarter. 

, Then we went down stairs into the cabin. The second 
mate was not quite dead. He was sitting leaning against 
his berth. I " catched" him by the hair of the head with 
my left hand, and struck him ^ith the hatchet I had in 
my right hand. I told this young German, " Well, let's 



THE NEGRO TILLMAN 'S NARRATIVE. 25 

get him overboard as soon as we can." So we hauled 
him over on to the cabin. 

He was not quite dead, but he would not have lived 
long. We flung him over the starboard quarter. Then 
I told this German to go and call that man Jim, the 
southern chap (one of the pirates), here. He called him 
aft. 

Says I, " Jim, come down here in the cabin. Do you 
know that I have taken charge of this vessel to-night ? 
I am going to put you in irons." 

"Well," says he, "I am willing." 

He gave right up. I kept him in irons till 8 o'clock 
the next morning. I then sent the German for him, and 
I said — 

" Smith (the name Milnor went by on board), I want 
you to join us and help take this vessel back. But mind, 
the least crook or the least turn, and overboard you go 
with the rest." 

"Well," said he, "I will do the best I can." And he 
worked well all the way back. He couldn't do other- 
wise. It was pump or sink. 

They didn't have any chance to beg. It was all done 
in five minutes. In seven minutes and a half after I 
struck the first blow the vessel was squared away before 
the wind and all sail set. We were fifty miles south of 
Charleston, and one hundred to the eastward. 

Tillman said that at first he had thought of securing all 
the men, and bringing them all to New York alive, in 
irons ; but he found this was impracticable. To use his 
own language, " There were too many for that — there 
were five of them, and oi^ly three of us." 

After this, I said, well, 1 will get all back I can alive, 
and the rest I will kill. Tillman says he went away as 
a steward; but came back as a captain. 



26 ZAGONYI'S FAMOUS CHARGE. 



ZAGONYI'S PAMOUS OHAEaE. 

Among the foreign officers whom the fame of Gene- 
ral Fremont drew around him^ was Charles Zagonyi, 
a Hungarian refugee, but long a resident of this country. 
In his boyhood, Zagonyi had plunged into the passionate, 
but unavailing struggle which Hungary made for her 
liberty. He at once attracted the attention of General 
Bern, and was by' him placed in command of a picked 
company of cavalry. In one of the desperate engagements 
of the war, Zagonyi led a. charge upon a large artillery 
force. More than half of his men were slain. He was 
wounded and taken prisoner. Two years passed before 
he could exchange an' Austrian dungeon for American 
exile. 

General Fremont welcomed Zagonyi cordially, and 
authorized him to recruit a company of horse to act as 
his body-guard. Zagonyi was most scrupulous in his 
selection ; but so ardent was the desire to serve under the 
eye, and near the person of the General, that in five days 
after the lists were opened two full companies were en- 
listed. Soon after a whole company, composed of the 
very flower of the youth of Kentucky, tendered its ser- 
vices, and requested to be added to the Guard. Zagonyi 
was still overwhelmed with applications, and he obtained 
permission to recruit a fourth company. 

The fourth company, however, did not go with us into 
the field. The men were clad in blue jackets, trousers, 
and caps. They were armed with light German sabres, 
the best that at that time could be procured, and revol- 
vers ; besides which, the first company carried ca-rbines. 
They were mounted upon bay horses, carefully selected 
from the government stables. Zagonyi had but little 
time to instruct his recruits, 'but in less than a month 
from the commencement of the enlistments, the Body- 
Guard was a well disciplined and most efficient corps of 



ZAGONYI'S FAMOUS CHARGE. 27 

cavalry. The officers were all American except three — 
one Hollander, and two Hungarians, Zagonyi and Lieu- 
tenant Mathenyi, who came to the United States during 
his boyhood. 

Zagonyi left our camp at eight o'clock on the evening 
of October 24th, 1861, with about a hundred and sixty 
men, the remainder of the Guard being left at head-quar- 
ters under the command of a non-commissioned officer. 

Major White was already on his way to Springfield 
with his squadron. This young officer, hardly twenty- 
one years old, had won great reputation for energy and 
zeal while a captain of infantry in a. New York regiment 
stationed at Fort Monroe. He there saw much hazardous 
scouting service, and had been in a number of engage- 
ments. In the West he held a position upon General 
Fremont's staff, with the rank of Major. While at Jef- 
ferson City, by permission of the General, he had organized 
a battalion to act as scouts' and rangers, composed of two 
companies of the Third Illinois Cavalry, under Captains 
Fairbanks and Kehoe, and a company of Irish dragoons, 
Captain Naughton, which had been recruited for Mulli- 
gan's brigade, but had not joined Mulligan in time to be 
at Lexington. 

Major White went to Georgetown, in advance of the 
whole army, from there marched sixty-five miles in one 
night to Lexington, surprised the garrison, liberated a 
number of Federal officers, who were there wounded and 
prisoners, and captured the steamers which Price had 
taken from Mulligan. From Lexington White came by 
way of Warrensburg to Warsaw. During this long and 
hazardous expedition the Prairie Scouts had been with- 
out tents, and depended for food upon the supplies they 
could take from the enemy. 

Major White did not remain at Warsaw to recruit, his 
health, seriously impaired by hardship and exposure. 
He asked for further service, and was directed to report 



28 ZAGONYI'S FAMOUS CHARGE. 

himself to General Siegel, by whom lie was ordered to 
make a reconnoissance in the direction of Springfield. 

After a rapid night-march, Zagonyi overtook White, 
and assumed command of the whole force. White was 
quite ill, and, unable to stay in his saddle, was obliged to 
follow in a carriage. In the morning, yielding to the re- 
quest of Zagonyi, he remained at a farm-house where the 
troop had halted for refreshment, it being arranged that 
he should rest an hour or two, come on in 'his carriage 
with a small escort, and overtake Zagonyi before he 
reached Springfield. The Prairie Scouts numbered one 
hundred and thirty, so that the troop was nearly three 
hundred strong. 

The day was fine, the road good, and the little column 
pushed on merrily, hoping to surprise the enemy. When 
within two hours' march of the town, they met a Union 
farmer of the neighborhood, who told Zagonyi that a 
large body of rebels arrived at Springfield the day be- 
fore, on their way to reinforce Price, and that the enemy 
were now two thousand strong. 

Zagonyi would have been justified if he had turned 
back. But the Guard had been made the subject of much 
malicious remark, and had brought ridicule upon the 
General. Should they retire npw, a storm of abuse would 
burst upon them. Zagonyi, therefore, took no counsel of 
prudence. He could not hope to defeat and capture the 
foe, but he might surprise them, dash into their camp, 
destroy their train, and, as he expressed it, " disturb their 
sleep," obtaining a victory which, for its moral eft'ects, 
would be' worth the sacrifice it cost. His daring resolve 
found unanimous and ardent assent with his zealous fol- 
lowers. 

The Union farmer offered to guide Zagonyi by a cir- 
cuitous route to the rear of the rebel position, and under 
his guidance he left the main road about five miles from 
Springfield. 

After an hour of repose, White set out in pursuit of his 



ZAGONYl'S FAMOUS CHARGE. ., 29 

men, driving his horses at a gallop. He knew nothing 
of the change in Zagonyi's plans, and supposed the attack 
was to be made upon the front of the town. He therefore 
continued upon the main road, expecting every minute 
to overtake the column. As he'drew near the village, 
and heard and saw nothing of Zagonyi, he supposed the 
enemy had left the place and the Federals had taken it 
without opposition. .The approach to Springfield from 
the north is' through a forest, and the village cannot be 
seen until the outskirts are reached. A sudden turn in 
the road brought White into the very midst of a strong 
rebel guard. They surrounded him, seized his horses, 
and in an instant he and his companion were prisoners. 

When they learned his rank, they danced around him 
like a pack of savages, shouting and holding their cocked 
pieces at his heart. The leader of the party had, a few 
days before, lost a brother in a skirmish with Wyman's 
force, and with loud oaths he swore that the Federal Major 
should die in expiation of his brother's death. He was 
about to carry his inhuman threat into execution. Major 
White boldly facing him and saying, " If my men were 
here, I'd give you all the revenge you want." 

At this moment a young officer, Captain Wroton by 
name — of whom more hereafter — pressed through the 
throng, and placing himself in front of White, declared 
that he would protect the prisoner with his own life. The 
firm bearing of Wroton saved the Major's life, but his cap- 
tors robbed him and hurried him to their camp, where he 
remained during the fight, exposed to the hottest of the 
fire, an excited, but helpless spectator of the stirring events 
which followed. He promised his generous protector* 
that he would not attempt to escape, unless his men .should 
try to rescue him ; but Captain Wroton remained by his 
side, guarding him. 

Making a detour of twelve miles, Zagonyi approached 
the position of the enemy. They were encamped half a 
mile west of Springfield, upon a hill which sloped to the 



30 ZAQONYl'S FAMOUS CHARGE. 

east. Along the northern side of their camp was a broad 
and well travelled road; along the southern side, a nar- 
row lane ran down to a "brook at the foot of the hill ; the 
space between, about three hundred yards broad, was the 
field of battle. Along the west side of the field, separat- 
ing it from the county fair ground, was another lane, 
connecting the main road and the first mentioned lane. 
The side of the hill was clear, but its summit, which was 
broad and flat, was covered with a rank growth of small 
tiniber, so dense as to be impervious to horse. 

The foe were advised of the intended attack. "When 
Major White was brought into their camp, they were 
preparing to defend their position. As appears from the 
confessions of prisoners, they had twenty-two hundred 
men, of whom four hundred were cavalry, the rest being 
infantry, armed with shot-guns, American rifles, and re- 
volvers. 

Twelve hundred of their foot were posted along the 
edge of the wood upon the crest of the hill. The cavalry 
was stationed upon the extreme left, on top of a spur of 
the hill and in front of a patch of timber. Sharpshooters 
Were concealed behind the trees close to the fence along- 
side the lane, and a small number in some underbrush near 
the foot of the hill. Another detachment guarded their 
train, holding possession of the county fair ground, which 
was. surrounded by a high board fence. 

This position was unassailable by cavalry from the road, 
the only point of attack being down the lane on the right ; 
and the enemy were so disposed as to command this ap- 
proach perfectly. The lane was a blind one, being closed, 
after passing the brook, by fences and ploughed land; it 
was in fact a cul* de sac. If the infantry should stand, 
nothing could save the rash assailants. There are horse- 
men sufficient to sweep the little band before them, as 
helplessly as the withered forest leaves in the grasp of 
the autumn winds; there are deadly marksmen lying 
behind the trees upon the heights, and lurking in the long 



ZAGONYl'S FAMOUS CHARGE. 31 

grass -upon the lowlands ; while a long line of foot stand 
upon the summit of the slope, who, only stepping a few 
paces back into the forest, may defy the boldest riders. 
Yet down this- narrow lane, leading into the very jaws of 
death, came the three hundred. 

On the prairie, at the edge of the woodland in which 
he knew his wily foe lay hidden^ , Zagonyi halted his 
command. He spurred along the line. "With eager glance 
he scanned each horse and rider. 

To his officers he gave the simple order, " Follow me ! 
do as I do !" and then, drawing up in front of his men, 
with a voice tremulous and shrill with emotion, he spoke : 

"Fellow soldiers, comrades, brothers! This is your 
first battle. For our three hundred, the enemy have two 
thousand. If any of you are sick, or tired by the long 
march, or if any think the number is too great, now is 
the time to turn back." 

He paused; no one was sick or tired. 

" We must not retreat. Oui; honor, the honor of our 
General and our country, tell ns to go on. I will lead 
you. We have been called holiday soldiers for the pave- 
ments of St. Louis ; to-day we will show that we are sol- 
diers for the battle. Your watchword shall be, ' The Union 
and Fremont P Draw sabre ! * By the right flank — 
quick trot — march !" 

Bright swords flashed in the sunshine, a pas^onate 
shout burst from every lip, and with one accord, the trot 
passing- into a gallop, the compact column swept on its 
deadly purpose. 

Most of them were boys. A few weeks before they 
had left their homes. Those who were cool enough to 
note it say that ruddy cheeks grew pale, and fiery eyes 
were dimmed with tears. Who shall tell what thoughts 
— what visions of peaceful cottages nestling among the 
groves of Kentucky, or shining upon the banks of the 
Ohio and Illinois — ^what sad recollections of tearful fare- 



32 ZAGONYl'S 'FAMOUS CHARGE. 

wells, of tender, loving faces, filled their minds during 
those fearful moments of suspense ? 

Wo word was spoken. With lips compressed, firmly 
clenching their sword-hilts, with quick tramp of hoofs 
and clang of steel, honor leading and glory awaiting them, 
the young soldiers fiew forward, each brave rider and 
each, straining steed members of one huge creature, enor- 
mous, terrible, irresistible. 

" 'Twere worth ten years of peaceful life, 
One glance at their array." 

They pass the fair ground. They are at the corner of 
the lane where the wood begins. It runs close to the 
fence on their left for a hundred yards, and beyond it 
they see white tents gleaming. They are half-way past 
the forest, when, sharp and loud, a volley of musketry 
bursts upon the head of the column; horses stagger, 
riders reel and fall, but the troop presses forward undis- 
mayed. The farther corner of the wood is reached, and 
Zagonyi beholds the terrible array. Amazed, he in- 
voluntarily checks his horse. The rebels are not sur- 
prised. 

There to his left, they stand crowning the height, foot 
and horse ready to engulf him, if he shall be rash enough 
to g(^ on. The road he is following declines rapidly. 
There is but one thing to do — run the gauntlet, gain' the 
cover of the hill, and charge up the steep. These 
thoughts pass quicker than they can be told. He waves 
his sabre over his head, and shouting, " Forward I follow 
me ! quick trot ! gallop !" he dashes headlong down the 
stony road. The first company and most of the second 
follow. 

From the left a thousand muzzles belch forth a hissing 
flood of bullets ; the poor fellows clutch wildly in the air, 
and fall from their saddles, and maddened horses throw 
themselves against the fences. Their speed is not for an 
instant checked; farther down the 'hill they fly, like 



ZAGONYl'S FAMOUS CHARGE, 33 

wasps driven by the leaden storm. Sharp volleys J^our 
out from the nnderbrush at the left, clearing wide gaps 
through their ranks. They leap the brook, take down the 
fence, and draw up under the shelter of the hill. Zagonyi 
looks around him, and to his horror sees that only a fourth 
of his men are Avith him. He cries, '* They do not come 
—we are lost !" and frantically waves his sabre. 

He had not long to wait. The delay of the rest of the 
Guard was not from hesitation. When Captain Foley 
reached the lower corner of the wood and saw the enemy's 
line, he thought a flank attack might be advantageously 
made. He ordered some of his men to dismount and take 
down the fence. This was done under a severe fire. 
Several men fell, and he found the wood so dense that it 
could not be penetrated. 

Looking down the hill, he saw the flash of Zagonyi's 
sabre, and at once gave the order " Forward 1" At the 
same time Lieutenant Kennedy, a stalwart Kentuckian, 
shouted " Come on, J^oys ! remember Old Kentucky !" 
and the third ^company of the Gruard — fire on every side 
of them, from behind trees, from under the fences — with 
thundering stride and long cheers, poured down the slope 
and rushed to the side of Zagonyi. They have seventy 
dead and wounded men, and the carcasses of horses are 
strewn along the lane. Kennedy is wounded in the arm 
and lies upon the stones, his faithful charger standing 
motionless beside him. Lieutenant Goft* received a 
wound in the thigh ; he kept his seat, and cried out, 
" The devils have hit me, but I will give it to them yet I" 

The remnant of the Guard are now in the field under 
the hill, and from the shape of the ground the rebel fire 
sweeps with the roar of a whirlwind over their heads. 
Here we will leave them for a moment, and trace the for- 
tunes of the Prairie Scouts. 

When Foley brought his troop to a halt. Captain Fair- 
banks, at the head of the first company of Scouts, was 
at the point where the first volley of musketry had been 
3 



34 ZAGONYl'S FAMOUS CHARGE. 

received. The narrow lane was crowded by a dense 
mass of struggling horses, and filled with the tumult of 
battle. . Captain Fairbanks says, and he is corroborated 
by several of his men who were near, that at this moment 
an officer of the Guard rode up to him and said, "They 
are flying, take your men down that lane and cut off their 
retreat" — pointing to the lane at the left. Captain Fair- 
banks was not able to identify the person who gave this 
order. It certainly did not come from Zagonyi, who was 
several hundred yards farther on. Captain Fairbanks 
executed the order, followed by the second company of 
Prairie Scouts, under Captain Kehoe. When this move- 
ment was made, Captain ISTaughton, with the Third Irish 
Dragoons, had not reached the corner of the lane. 

He came up at a gallop, and was about to follow Fair- 
banks, when he saw a Gruardsman who pointed in the di- 
rection in which Zagonyi had gone. He took this for an 
order, and obeyed it. When he reached the gap in the 
fence, made by Foley, not seeing anything of the Guard, 
he supposed they had -passed through at that place, and 
gallantly attempted to follow. Thirteen men fell in a few 
minutes. He was shot in the arm, and dismounted. 
Lieutenant Connolly spurred into the underbrush, and 
received two balls through the lungs and one in the left 
"shoulder. The Dragoons, at the outset more than fifty 
strong, were broken and dispirited by the loss of their 
officers, and retired. A sergeant rallied a few, and brought 
them up to the gap, again, and they were again driven back. 

Five of the boldest passed down the hill, joined Zago- 
nyi, and were conspicuous by their valor during the rest 
of the day. Fairbanks and Kehoe, having gained the 
rear and left of the enemy's position, made two or three 
assaults upon detached parties of the foe, but did not join 
in the main attack. 

I now return to the Guard. It is forming under the 
shelter of the hill. In front, with gentle inclination, rises 
a grassy slope, broken by occasional tree stumps. A line 



• ^ ZAGONYI'S FAMOUS CHARGE. 35 

of fire "apon the summit marks the position of the Rebel 
infantry, and nearer, and ou the top of a lower eminence 
to the right, stand their horse. Up to this time no Guards- 
man had struck a blow, but blue coats and bay horses lie 
thick along the bloody lane. Their time has come. ' Lieu- 
tenant Mathenyi, with thirty men, is ordered to attack 
the cavalry. 

With sabres flashing over their heads, the little band 
of heroes spring towards their tremendous foe. Right 
upon the centre th-ey charge. The dense mass opens, the 
blue coats force their way in, and the whole rebel squad- 
ron scatters in disgraceful flight through the cornfields 
in the rear. The bays follow them, sabring the fugitives. 
Days after, the enemy's horses lay thick among the uncut 
corn. 

Zagonyi holds his main body until Mathenyi disap- 
pears in the cloud of rebel cavalry; then his voice rises 
through the air : 

"In open order — charge!" 

The line opens out to give play to their sword-arm. 
Steeds respond to the ardor of their riders, and quick as 
thought, with thrilling cheers, the noble hearts rush into 
the leaden torrent which pours down the incline. With 
unabated fire the gallant fellows press through. Their 
fierce onset is not even checked. The foe do not wait 
for them — they waver, break, and fly. The Guardsmen 
spur into the midst of the rout, and their fast-falling s^Yords 
work a terrible revenge. Some of the boldest of the 
Southrons retreat into the woods, and continue a mur- 
derous fire from behind trees and thickets. 

Seven Guard horses fall upon a space not more than 
tvventy feet square. As his steed sinks under him, one 
of the officers is caught around the shoulders by a grape- 
vine, and hangs dangling in the air until he is cut down 
by his friends. 

The rebel foot are flying in furious haste from the 
field. Some tajiie refuge in the fair ground, some hurry 



36 ZAGONYI'S FAMOUS CHARGE. • 

into tlie cornfield, but tlie greater part run along the edge 
of the wood, swarm over the fence into the road, and 
hasten to the village. The Guardsmen follow. Zagonyi 
leads them. Over the loudest roar of battle rings his 
clarion voice. 

" Come on, Old Kentuck ! I'm with you ! " 

And the flash^of his sword-blade tells his men where 
to go. As he approaches a barn, a man steps from behind 
the door and lowers his rifle ; but, before it has reached 
the level, Zagonyi's sabre-point descends upon his head, 
and his life blood leaps to the very top of the huge barn- 
door. 

The conflict now rages through the village — in the 
public square and along the streets. Up and down the 
Guards ride in squads of three or four, and wherever 
they see a group of the enemy charge upon and scatter 
them. It is hand to hand. No one but has a share in 
the fray. 

There was at least one soldier in the Southern ranks. 
A young officer, superbly mounted, charges alone upon 
a large body of the Guard. He passes through the line 
nnscathed, killing one man. He wheels, charges back, 
and again breaks through, killing another man. 

A third time he rushes upon the Federal line, a score 
of sabre-points confront him, a cloud of bullets fly around 
him, but he presses on until he reaches Zagonyi — he 
presses his pistol so close to the Major's side that he 
feels it, and draws convulsively back ; the bullet passes 
through the front of Zagonyi's coat, who at the instant 
runs the daring rebel through the body ; he falls, and the 
men, thinking their commander hurt, kill him with half 
a dozen wounds. 

" He was a brave man," said Zagonyi afterwards, " and 
I did wish to make him prisoner." 

Meanwhile it has grown dark. The foe have left the 
village, and the battle has ceased. The assembly is 
sounded, and the Guard gathers in the Plaza.- Not more 



ZAGONYl'S FAMOUS CHARGE. 3*7 

than elgtity mounted men appear; the rest are killed, 
wounded, or unhorsed. At this time one of the most 
characteristic incidents of the affair took place. 

Just before the charge, Zagonyi directed one of his 
buglers, a Frenchman, to sound a signal. The bugler 
did not seem to pay any attention to the order, but darted 
off with Lieutenant Mathenyi. A few moments- after- 
wards he was observed in another part of the field vigor- 
ously pursuing the flying infantry. His active form was 
always seen in the thickest of the fight. 

When the line was formed in the Plaza, Zagonyi no- 
ticed the bugler, and approaching him said, "In the midst 
of the battle you disobeyed my order. You are unwor- 
thy to be a member of the Guard. I dismiss you." 

The bugler showed his bugle to his indignant eom- 
mander — the mouthpiece of the instrument was shot 
away. He said, " The mouth was shot off. I could not 
bugle viz mon bugle, and so I bugle viz mon pistol and 
sabre. It is unnecessary to add the brave Frenchman 
was not dismissed. 

I must not forget to mention Sergeant Hunter, of the 
Kentucky company. His soldierly figure never failed 
to attract the eye in the ranks of the Guard. He had 
served in the regular cavalry, and the Body Guard had 
profited greatly from his skill as a drill-master. He. lost 
three horses in the fight. As soon as one was killed, he 
causrht another from the rebels. The third horse taken 

o 

by him in this way he rode into St. Louis. 

The sergeant slew five men. " I won't speak of those 
I shot," said he — "another may have hit them ; but those 
I touched with my sabre I am sure of, because I felt 
them." 

At the beginning of the charge he came to the extreme 
right, and took position next to Zagonyi, whom he fol- 
lowed closely through the battle. The Major seeing him, 
said : — 



38 ZAGONYl'S FAMOUS CHARGE. 

" Why are you here. Sergeant Hunter ? Your place is 
with your company on the left." 

" I kind o' wanted to be in front," was the answer. 

" What could I sayHo such a man ?" exclaimed Zago- 
nyi, speaking 6f the matter afterwards. 

There was hardly a horse or rider among the survivors 
that did not bring away some mark of 'the fray. I saw 
one animal with no less than seven wounds — none of them 
serious. Scabbards were bent, clothes and caps pierced, 
pistols injured. I saw one pistol from which the sight 
had been cut as neatly as it could have been done by 
machinery. A piece of board a few inches long was cut 
from a fence on the field, in which there were thirty-one 
shot holes. 

It was now nine o'clock. The wounded had been 
carried to the hospital. The dismounted troopers were 
placed in charge of them — in the double capacity of 
nurses and guards. Zagonyi expected the foe to return 
every minute. It seemed like madness to try and hold 
the town with his small force, exhausted by the long 
march and desperate fight. He therefore left Springfield, 
and retired before morning twenty- five miles on the 
Bolivar road. 

Captain Fairbanks did not see his commander after 
leaving the column in the lane at the commencement of 
the engagement. About dusk he repaired to the prairie, 
and remained there within a mile of the village until 
midnight, when he followed Zagonyi, rejoining him in 
the morning. 

To return to Major White. During the conflict upon 
the hill, he was in the forest near the front of the rebel 
line. Here his horse was shot under him. Captain 
Wroton kept careful watch over him. When the flight 
began he hurried White away, and, accompanied by a 
squad of eleven men, took him ten miles into the country. 
They stopped at a farm-house for the night. White dis- 
covered that their host was a Union man. 



ZAGONYI'S FAMOUS CHARGE. 39 

His parole having expired, lie took advantage of the 
momentary absence of his captor to speak to the farmer, 
telling him who he was, and asking him to send for 
assistance. The countryman mounted his son upon his 
swiftest horse, and sent him for succor. The party lay 
down by the fire, White being placed in the midst. The 
rebels- were soon asleep, but there w^as no sleep for the 
Major. 

He listened anxiously for the footsteps of his rescuers. 
After long, weary hours, he heard the tramp of horses. 
He arose, and walking on tiptoe, cautiously stepping over 
his sleeping guards, he reached the door and silently un- 
fastened it. The Union men rushed into the room and 
took the astonished Wroton and his followers prisoners. 
At daybreak White rode into Springfield at the head of 
his captives and a motley band of Home Guards. He 
found the Federals still in possession of the place. 

As the of&cer of the highest rank he took command. 
His garrison consisted of twenty-four men. He stationed 
twenty-two of them as pickets in the outskirts of the vil- 
lage, and held the other two as a reserve. At noon the 
enemy sent in a flag of truce and asked permission to 
bury their dead. Major White received the flag with 
proper ceremony, but .said that General Sigel was in 
command, and the request would have to be referred to 
him. 

Sigel was then forty miles away. In a short time a 
written communication, purporting to come from Gen. 
Sigel, saying that the rebels might send a party under 
certain restrictions to bury their dead. White drew in 
some of his pickets, stationed them about the field, and 
under their surveillance the Southern dead were buried. 

The loss of the enemy, as reported by some of their 
working party, was one hundred and sixteen killed. The 
number of wounded could not be ascertained. After the 
conflict had drifted away from the hillside, some of the 



40 • THE FEARFUL ORDEAL. 

foe had returned to the field, taken away their wounded 
and robbed our dead. 

The loss of the Guard was fifty-three out of one hun- 
dred and forty-eight actually engaged, twelve men having 
been left by Zagonyi in charge of his train. The Prairie 
Scouts reported a loss of thirty-one out of one hundred 
and thirty : half of these belong to the Irish Dragoons. 
In a neighboring field an Irishman was found stark and 
stiff, still clinging to the hilt of his sword, which was 
thrust through the body of a rebel who lay beside him. 
"Within a few" feet a second rebel lay, shot through the 
head. 

It was the first essay of raw troops, and yet there are 
few more brilliant achievements in history. 



THE PEAERJL OEDEAL. 

A private in a certain regiment was tried by a court- 
martial for deserting his post, and found guilty, the pun- 
ishment for which is death. His execution was deferred 
for some time, and he was kept in a painful state of sus- 
pense. At last the time was fixed for his execution, and 
five regiments were drawn up in line to witness it, while 
a file of twelve men were in advance to execute the sen- 
tence of death by shooting him. 

The prisoner was led forward blindfolded, and the 
usual words of preparation and command were given in 
a low, measured tone, by the officer in command. 

During the interval between the commands, "take aim," 
and " fire," and before the last was given, a horseman rode 
rapidly up the road, waving in the air a paper, which 
was understood by all present to be a reprieve. Covered 
with dust and perspiration, the ofl&cer rode hurriedly up 
to the of&cer in command, and delivered to him what 
really proved to be a reprieve. 

The shout " reprieve" fell upon the poor soldier's ear^ 



THE FRIGHTENED SPECULATORS. 41 

whicTi was already strained to the utmost in anticipation 
of hearing the hast and final word that was to nsher his 
soul into the presence of his Creator ; it was too much 
for him, and he fell back upon his coffin apparently 
dead. 

The bandage was removed from his eyes, but reason 
had taken its flight, and he became a hopeless maniac. 
He was discharged from the army, and sent home to his 
friends, flis death had really never been intended : but 
it was deemed necessary for the good order and discipline 
of. the army to make an impression upon not only him- 
self, but the whole brigade ; for that purpose the forms' 
of the execution were regularly gone through with, in 
presence of iive regiments, and the reprieve arrived in 
good time, a« it was intended. 

It was sought by this means to solemnly impress upon 
the whole assemblage of soldiers, the necessity of a 
strict observance of duty and obedience, under the penalty 
of an ignominious death. 

Fearful, indeed, was the ordeal through which the de- 
serter passed. 



TEE rRiaSTENED SPECULATOES. 

While the Union troops occupied Oxford, Miss., a very 
ridiculous rumor got afloat among outsiders that a tre- 
mendous rebel army was marching up from Grenada, 
and a few of the cotton-buyers, who had heard of the bad 
fortunes of the brethren at Holly Springs, became very 
nervous. The troubles of one nervous pair furnished 
merriment for hundreds. 

They were lodging together at the hotel, and like cats 
slept with one eye and both ears open. They had gone 
to bed early with the intention of getting up in good 
season and leaving the town with the first division of the 
army. They had just dozed off in uneasy slumbers ^Vhen 



42 THE FRIGHTENED SPECULATORS, 

a drum was beaten at ratlier an unusual hour, in some 
one of our distant camps. 

"Omy Lord!" says Hammond, "there's the long roll! 
The enemy are coming, sure enough ! There's going to 
be a battle right here ! "What shall we do ?" 

Both were now up on end, listening to the sound. The 
drum continued to roll, and as the wind carried the sound 
about, it came now near and loud, now faint and far, like 
the sound of some ghostly drum beaten by spirits in the 
air. 

Presently a stronger gust of ,wind brought the sound, 
apparently right under their window. This was too much. 
In an instant they were on their feet, hunting distractedly 
in the dark for boots, pantaloons, coats, etc. 

Hammond was so " clean daft," as the Scotch say, that 
he could find nothing but his coat (which contained his 
jnoney) and his spurs. Some fun-loving acquaintance, 
or the boot-black of the hotel, if the hotel was guilty 
of that institution, had carried off his boots. After a 
vain search for them, he drew on the coat, clapped the 
spurs on his stocking feet, and started down-stairs for 
his horse. "But," says Williams, *" won't the guard arrest 
us if we are out after night without the countersign?" 

"Eh?" "countersign!" "guard!" and Hammond paused 
for an instant on the stairs. Just then another puff of 
wind brought the sound of the drum from the distant 
hills ; that decided the matter ; down -stairs they went, 
out to the stable, clapped on saddles and bridles, mounted 
horse and away, and for three miles out from the north 
side of Oxford, their flight from the sound of that drum 
was equal to Tam O'Shanter's race with the witches 
across the bridge. 

Toward breakfast-time, not finding the road full of 
crowds, running away like themselves, and the woods 
around looking rather guerrillaish, they concluded that it 
would be better to show their pluck by coming back to 
town. 



THE DARINQ SPY. 43 

The next niglit, one of the pair, Hammond, determined to 
have more courageous company, and changed his lodging- 
place. On going to bed, he inquired of his room-mate 
if the enemy would be likely to search a man's stockings 
for money, in case he was captured? On being told that 
they probably would not think to look in them, he stowed 
away six thousand dollars in one of the stockings, which 
he took the precaution to wear on his feet during the 
night. 

In the morning he had forgotten where he had put 
the money, and went to a mutual friend of himself, and his 
room-mate, with a grievous story of his room-mate having 
robbed him. Attention was, however; called to his bank 
of deposits, and the matter satisfactorily adjusted. 



THE DAEmG SPY. 

" John Morford" — so let us call him, good reader — - 
was born near Augusta, Georgia, of Scotch parents, in 
the year 1832, A blacksmith by trade, he early engaged 
in railroading, and at the commencement of the rebellion 
was master-mechanic upon a prominent Southern road. 
Being a strong Union man, and ijiaking no secret of it, 
he was discharged from his situation and not allowed 
employment upon any other railroad. A company of 
cavalry was also sent to his farm and stripped it. Ag- 
grieved at this wholesale robbery, Morford went to John 
H. Morgan, then a captain, and inquired if he would not 
pay him for the property thus taken. Morgan replied 
that he should have his pay if he would only prove his 
loyalty to the South. Morford acknowledged this to be 
impossible, and was thereupon very liberally cursed and 
villified by Morgan, who accused him of harboring ne- 
groes and traitors, and threatened to have him shot. 
Finally, however, he was content with simply arresting 



44 -^ THE DARING SPY. 

him and sending him, charged with disloyalty, to one 
Major Peyton. 

The major seems to have been a somewhat talkative 
and argumentative man ; for upon Morford's arrival he 
endeavored to reason him out of his, adherence to the 
Union, asking him, in the course of a lengthy conversa- 
tion, many questions about the war, demonstrating, to his 
own satisfaction at least, the necessity and justice of the 
position assumed by the seceded States, and finishing, by 
way of clenching the argument, with the inquiry, " How 
can you, a Southern man by birth and education, be op- 
posed to the South ?" Morford replied that he saw no 
reason for the rebollion, that the Union was good enough 
for him, that he should cling to it, and, if he could obtain 
a pass, would abandon the Confederacy and cast his lot 
v/ith the Worth. The Major then argued still more at 
length, and, as a last resort, endeavored to frighten him 
with a vivid description of the horrors of "negro equality" 
— to all of which his hearer simply replied that he was 
not afraid ; whereupon, as unskilful advocates of a bad 
cause are prone to do, he became very wrathy, vented 
his anger in a torrent of oaths and v*ile epithets, and told 
Morford that he ought to be hnng, and should be in two 
weeks. The candidate for hempen honors, apparently 
not at all alarmed^ coolly replied that he was sorry for 
that, as he wished to live a little longer, but, if it must 
be so, he couldn't help it. Peyton, meanwhile, cooled 
down, and told him that if he would give a bond of one 
thousand dollars and take th^ oath of allegiance to the 
Southern Confederacy, he would release him and protect 
his property. After some hesitation — no other plan of 
escape occurring to him — Morford assented, and took the 
required oath, upon the back of which Peyton wrote, "If 
you violate this, I will hang you." 

With this safeguard, Morford returned to his farm and 
lived a quiet life. Buying^ span of horses, he devoted 
himself to the cultivation of his land, seeing as few per- 



THE DARING SPY. * 45 

sons as he could, and talking witli none. His house had 
previously been the head-quarters of the Union men, bat 
was how deserted by them ; and its owner endeavored to 
live up to the letter of the obligation he had taken. For a 
short time all went well enough ; but one day a squad of 
cavalry came with a special written order from Major 
Peyton to take his two horses, which they did. This 
"was too much for human nature ; and Morford, perceiving 
that no faith could be placed in the assurances of those 
in command, determined to be revenged upon them and 
their cause. His house again became a secret rendezvous 
for Unionists ; and by trusty agents he managed to send 
regular and valuable information to General Buell, then 
in command in Tennessee. At length, however, in May, 
1862, he was betrayed bygone in whom he had placed 
confidence, and arrested upon the charge of sending in- 
formation to General- Crittenden, at Battle Creek. He 
indignantly denied the charge, and declared that he could 
easily prove himself innocent if released for that purpose. 
After three days' confinement, this was assented to ; and 
Morford, knowing full well that he could not do what he 
had promised, made a hasty retreat and fled to the moun- 
tains, whence, some days afterwards, he emerged, and 
went to McMinnville, at which place General Nelson was 
then in command. 

Here he remained until the rebel force left that vici- 
nity, when he again went home, and lived undisturbed 
upon his farm until Bragg returned with his army. The 
presence in. the neighborhood of so many officers cog- 
nizant of his former arrest and, escape rendered flight a 
second time necessary. He now went to the camp of 
General Donelson, with whom he had some acquaintance, 
and soon becam<S very friendly there — acting the while , 
in the double capacity of beef- contractor for the rebel 
army and spy for General Crittenden. Leaving General 
Donelson after some months'* stay, although earnestly re- 
quested to remain longer, Morford next found his way 



46 ' THE DARING SPY. 

to Nashville, where lie made numerous expeditions as a 
spy for General Negiej. Buell was at Louisville, and 
Nashville was then the Federal outpost. Morford tra- 
velled about very readily upon passes given him by' 
General Donelson, making several trips to Murfrees- 
borough and one to Cumberland Gap. 

Upon his return from the latter, he was arrested near 
Lebanon, Tennessee, about one o'clock at night, by a party 
of foUr soldiers upon picket-duty at that point. Halting 
him, the following conversation occurred : — 

" Where do you live?" 

" Near Stewart's Ferry, between here and Nashville." 

" Where have you been, and what for ?" 

" Up to see my brother, to get from him some jeans 
cloth and socks for another brother in the Confederate 
army." 

" How does it happen you are not in the army your- 
self? That looks rather suspicious." 

"Oh, I live too near the Federal lines to be con- 
scripted." 

" Well, we'll have to send you to Murfreesborough. I 
reckon you're all right; but those are our orders, and 
we can't go behind them." 

To this Morford readily consented, saying he had no 
objection ; and the party sat down pj the fire and talked 
in a friendly manner for some time. Morford soon re- 
membered that he had a bottle of brandy with him, and 
generously treated the crowd. Further conversation was 
followed by a second drink, and soon by a third. One 
of the party now proposed to exchange his Eosinantish 
mare for a fine horse which Morford rode. The latter 
was not inclined to trade ; but objection was unless, and 
he finally yielded, receiving seven ty-fivfe dollars in Con- 
federate money and the mare. The trade pleased the 
soldier, and a present of a pair of socks still further en- 
hanced his pleasure. His companions were also similarly ' 
favored; and testified their appreciation of the gift by 



THE DARING SPY. 41 

endeavoring to purchase the balance of Morford's stock. 
He would not sell, however, as he wished to send them 
to his brother at Richmond, by a person who had given 
public notice that he was soon going there. A fourth 
drink made all supremely happy; at which juncture 
their prisoner asked permission to go to a friend's house, 
only a quarter of a mile off, and stay until morning, when 
he would go with them to Murfreesborough. His friend 
of the horse trade, now very mellow, thought he need 
not go to Murfreesborough at all, and said he would see 
what the others said about it. Finally it was concluded 
that he was " right," and might go ; whereupon he mounted 
the skeleton mare and rode rejoicingly into Nashville. 

On his next trip southward he was arrested by Colonel 
John T. Morgan, just as he came out of the Federal lines, 
and, as his only resort, joined Forrest's command, and 
was furnished with a horse and gun. The next day 
Forrest made a speech to his men, and told them that 
they were now going to capture Nashville. The column 
immediately began its march, and Morford, by some 
means, managed to have himself placed in the advance. 
Two miles below Lavergne a halt for the night was made; 
but Morford's horse was unruly, and could not be stopped, 
carrying its rider ahead and out of sight. It is need- 
less to say that this obstinacy was not overcome until 
Nashville was reached, nor that when Forrest came, the 
next day, General Negley was amply prepared for him. 

At this time Nashville was invested. Buell was known 
to be advancing towards the city, but no scouts had been 
able to go to or eome from him. A handsome reward was 
offered to any one who would carry a despatch safely 
through to Bowling Green, and Morford undertook to 
do it. Putting the document under the lining of his 
boot, he started for Gallatin, wdiere he arrived safely. 

For some hours he sauntered around the place, lounged 
in and out of bar-rooms, made friends with the rebel sol- 
diers, and, towards evening purchased a small bag of 



48 THE DARING SPY. 

corn-meal, a bottle of wliiskey, a pound or two of salt, 
and some smaller articles, which he threw across his 
shoulder and started up the Louisville road, with hat on 
one side, hair in admirable disorder, and, apparently, 
gloriously drunk. The pickets jested at and made sport 
of him, but permitted him to pass. The meal, etc. was 
carried six miles, when he suddenly became sober, drop- 
ped it, and hastened on to Bowling Green, and there 
met General Kosecrans, who had just arrived. His in- 
formation was very valuable. Here he remained until 
the army came up and passed on, and then set out on 
his return on foot as he had come. He supposed that 
our forces had gone by way of Gallatin, but when near 
that place learned that it was still in possession of the 
rebels, and so stopped for the night in a shantv between 
Morgan's pickets, on the north side, and Woolford's 
(Union), on the south side. During the night the two 
had a fight, which finally centred around the shanty, and 
resulted in driving Morford to the woods. In two or 
three hours he came back for his clothes, and found that 
the contending parties had disappeared, and that the 
railroad-tunnels had been filled with wood, and fired. 
Hastily gathering his effects together, he made his way 
to Tyree Springs, and thence to Nashville. 

For a short time be acted as a detective of the Army 
Police at Nashville, assuming the character of a rebel 
soldier, and living in the families of prominent secession- 
ists. In this work he was very successful ; but it had 
too little of danger and adventure, and he returned again 
to scouting, making several trips southward, sometimes 
without trouble, but once or twice being arrested, and 
escaping as best he could. In these expeditions he vis- 
ited McMinnville, Murfreesborough, Altamont, on the 
Cumberland Mountains, Bridgeport, Chattanooga, and 
other places of smaller note. He travelled usually in 
the guise of a smuggler, actually obtaining orders for 
goods from prominent rebels, and sometimes the money 



THE DARING SPY. 49 

in advance, filling them in Nashville, and delivering the 
articles upon his next trip. Just before the battle of 
Stone River he received a large order to be filled for the 
rebel hospitals, went to Nashville, procured the medicine, 
and returned to McMinnville, when he delivered some of 
it. Thence he travelled to Bradyville, and thence to 
Murfreesborough, arriving there just as the battle began. 
Presenting some of the surgeons with a supply of mor- 
phine, he assisted them in attending the wounded for a 
day or two, and then went to a hospital tent in the woods 
near the railroad, where he also remained one day and 
part of another. The fight was now getting hot, and, 
fearful that somebody would recognize him, he left Mur- 
freesborough on Friday, and went to McM.innville. He 
had been there but little more than an hour, having 
barely time to put np his horse and step into a house 
near by to see some wounded men, when two soldiers 
arrived in search of him. Their description of him was 
perfect ; but he escaped by being out of sight — the friend 
with .whom he was supposed to be, declaring, though 
closely questioned, that he had not seen and knew 
nothing of him. In a few minutes pickets were thrown 
out around the town, and it was two days before he 
could get away. Obtaining a pass to Chattanooga at 
last, only through the influence of a lady acquaintance, 
wnth it he passed the guards, but, when once out of sight, 
turned off* from the Chattanooga road, and made his way 
safely to Nashville. 

General Rosecrans was now in possession of Murfrees- 
borough, and thither Morford proceeded with some smug- 
gler's goods, with a view to another trip. The necessary 
■permission was readily obtained, and he set out for 
Woodbury. Leaving his waQ:on outside the rebel lines, 
he proceeded on foot to McMinnville, arriving there on 
the 19th of January last, and finding General, John II. 
Morgan, to whom he represented himself as a former 
resident in the vicinity of Woodbury ; his family, hpw- 
4 



50 THE DARING SPY. 

ever, liad moved away, and he would like permission to 
take liis wagon and bring away the household goods. 
This was granted, and the wagon brought to McMinnville, 
whence Morford went to Cliattanooga, representing himself 
along the road as a fugitive from the Yankees. Near 
Chattanooga he began selling his goods to Unionists and 
rebels alike, at enormous prices, and soon closed them 
out at a profit of from four hundred to five hundred dol- , 
lars. At Chattanooga he remained a few days, obtained 
all the information he could, and returned to Murfrees- 
borough without trouble. 

His next and last trip is the most interesting and 
daring of all his adventures. Making a few days' stay 
in Murfree^borough, he went to McMinnville, and re- 
mained there several days, during which time he burned 
Hickory Creek Bridge, and sent a report of it to General 
Eosecrans. This he managed with so much secrecy and 
skill as to escape all suspicion of complicity in the work, 
mingling freely with the citizens and talking the matter 
over in all its phases. From McMinnville Morford pro- 
ceeded to Chattanooga, and remained there nearly a week, 
when he learned that three of our scouts were imprisoned 
in the Hamilton County jail, at Harrison, Tennessee, and 
■were to be shot on the first Friday in May. Determined 
to attempt their rescue, he sent a Union man to the town 
to ascertain who was jailer, what the number of the guards, 
how they were placed, and inquire into the condition of 
things in general about the jail. Upon receipt of his report, 
Morford gathered about him nine Union men, on the night 
of Tuesday, April 21, and started for Harrison. Before 
reaching the place, however, they heard rumors that the 
guard had been greatly strengthened ; and, fearful that 
it would prove too powerful for them, the party retreated 
to the mountains on the north side of the Tennessee Eiver, 
where they remained concealed until Thursday night. 
On Wednesday night the same man who had previously 
gone to the town was again sent to reconnoitre the posi- 



THE DARING SPY. 51 

tion. Thursday morning "he returned and said that the 
storj of a strong guard was all false : there were but two 
in addition to the jailer. 

Morford's party was now reduced to six, including 
himself : but he resolved to make the attempt that night. 
Late in the afternoon all went down to the river and 
loitered around until dark, when they procured boats and 
crossed to the opposite bank. Taking the Chattanooga 
and Harrison road, they entered the town, looked around 
at leisure, saw no soldiers nor anything unusual, and 
proceeded towards the jail. Approaching quite near, 
they threw themselves upon the ground and surveyed the 
premises carefully. The jail was surrounded by a high 
board fence, in which were two gates. Morford's plan of 
operations was quickly arranged. Making a prisoner of 
one of his own men, he entered the inclosure, posting a 
sentinel at each gate.. Once inside, a light was visible in 
the jail, and Morford marched confidently up to the door 
and rapped. The jailer thrust his head out of a window 
and asked what was wanted. He was told, " Here is a 
prisoner to put in the jail." Apparently satisfied, the 
jailer soon opened the door and admitted the twain into 
the entry. In a moment, however, he became alarmed/ 
and, hastily exclaiming, " Hold on !" stepped out. 

For ten minutes Morford waited patiently for his return, 
supposing, of course, that he could not escape from the 
yard, both gates being guarded. Not making his appear- 
ance, it was found that the pickets had allowed him to 
pass them. This rather alarming fact made haste neces- 
sary, and Morford, returning to the jail, said he must put 
his prisoner in immediately, and demianded the keys forth- 
with. The women declared in positive terms that they 
hadn't them, and did not know where they Avere. One 
of the- guards was discovered in bed and told to get the 
keys. Proving rather noisy and saucy, he was reminded 
that he might get his head taken off if he were not quiet 
—which intimation effectually silenced him. Morford 



52 THE DARING SPY. 

ao^ain demanded the keys, and the women, somewhat 
frightened, gave him the key to the outside door. Un- 
locking it, and lighting np the place with candles, he found 
himself in a room around the sidles of which was ranged 
a line of wrought-iron cages. In one of these were five 
persons, four white and one negro. Carrying out the 
character he had assumed of a rebel soldier in charge of 
a prisoner, Morford talked harshly enough to the caged 
men, and threatened to hang them at once, at which they 
were very naturally alarmed, and began to beg for mercy. 
For a third time the keys to the inner -room, in which the 
scouts were, were demanded, and a third time the women 
denied having them. An axe was then ordered to be 
brought, but there was none about the place : so said they.. 
Morford saw that they were trifling with him, and deter- 
mined to stop it. Snatching one of the jailer's boys 
standing near by the collar, and drawing his sabre, he 
told him he would cut his head off* if he did not bring 
him an axe. in tfwo minutes. This had the desired effect, 
and the axe was forthcoming. 

Morford now began cutting away at the lock, when he" 
was startled by hearing the word "halt!" at the gate. 
Of his five men two were at the gates, two were inside as 
a guard, and one was holding the light. Eeady for a 
fight, he went out to see what was the matter. The sen- 
tinel reporting that he had halted an armed man outside, 
Morford walked out to him and demanded — 

" What are you doing here with that gun ?" 

" Miss Laura said you were breaking down the jail, and 
I want to see McAllister, the jailer. Where is he ?" was 
the reply. - 

"Well, suppose I am breaking down the jail: what 
are you going to do about it ?" 

"I am going to stop it if I can." 

" What's your name ?" 

" Lowry Johnson." 

By this time Morford had grasped the muzzle of the 



THE DARING SPY. < 53 

gun, and told "him to let go. Instead of complying, 
Johnson tried to pull it away; but a blow upon the neck 
from Morford's sabre soon made him drop it. Morford 
now began to search him for other weapons, but before 
he had concluded the operation Johnson broke away, 
leaving a part of bis clothing in Morford's hands. The 
latter drew his revolver and pursued, firing five shots at 
.him, sometimes at a distance of only six or eight paces. 
A cry, as of pain, showed that he was struck, but he 
managed to reach the hotel (kept by his brother), and, 
bursting in the door, which was fastened, escaped into 
the house. Morford followed, but too late. Johnson's 
brother now came out and rang the bell in front, which 
gathered a crowd about the door ; but Morford, not at all 
daunted, told them that if they wanted to guard the jail 
they had better be about it quick, as he was going to 
burn it and the town in the bargain. This so frightened 
them that no further demonstration was made, and Mor- 
ford returned to the jail unmolested. There he and his 
men made so much shoutiuo^ and hurrahinor as to frif>:hten 
the people of the town beyond measure ; and many lights 
from upper- story windows were extinguished, and the 
streets were deserted. 

A half- hour's work was necessary to break off the out- 
side lock, a splendid burglar-proof one. Morford now 
discovered that the door was double, and that the inner 
one was made still more secure by being barred with three 
heavy log-chains. These were cut in two with the axe ; 
but the strong lock of the door still remained. He again 
demanded the key, and told the women if it was not 
produced he would, murder the whole of them. The 
rebel guard. Lew. Luttrell by name, was still in bed. 
Rising up, he said that the key w^as not there. Morford 
now ordered Luttrell to get out of bed, in a tone so 
authoritative that that individual deemed it advisable to 
comply. Scarcely was he out, however, before Morford 
struck at him with his sabre ; but he was too far ofi^ and 



54 THE DARING SPY. 

the blow fell upon one of tlie children, drawing some 
blood. This frightened the women, and, concluding that 
he was about to put his threat in execution and would 
murder them surely enough, they produced the key with- 
out further words. No time was lost in unlocking^ the 
door and releasing the inmates of the room. Procuring 
their clothes for them and arming one with Johnson's gun, 
the whole party left the jail and hurried towards thQ 
river. Among the released prisoners was a rebel with a 
wooden leg, the original having been shot off at Manassas. 
He persisted in accompanying the others, a*nd was only 
induced to go back by the intimation that " dead men 
tell no tales." 

Crossing the river in the boats, they were moved to 
another place at some distance, to preclude the possibility 
of being tracked and followed. All now hid themselves 
among the mountains, and the same Union man was again 
sent to Harrison, this time to see how severely Johnson 
was wounded. He returned in a day or two, and reported 
that he had a severe sabre-cut on the shoulder, a bullet 
through the muscle of his right arm, and two slight 
wounds in one of his hands. Morford and his men re- 
mained in the mountains until all search for the prisoners 
was over, then went to the Cumberland Mountains, where 
they remained one day and a portion of another, and 
then proceeded in the direction of McMinnville. Hiding 
themselves in the woods near this place during the day, 
seeing but not seen, they travelled that night to within 
eleven miles of Woodbury, when they struck across the 
road from McMinnville to Woodbury. Near Logan's 
Plains they were fired on by a body of rebel cavalry, but, 
though some forty shots were fired, no one of the ten was 
harmed, Morford having one bullet-hole in his coat. The 
cavalry, however, pursued them across the barrens, sur- 
rounded them, and supposed themselves sure of their 
game ; but Morford and his companions scattered and hid 
away, not one being captured or found. Night coming 



LITTLE EDDIE, THE DRUMMER BOY. 55 

on, tlie cavalry gave up the chase, and went on to Wood- 
bury, where they threw out pickets, not doubting that 
they would pick up the objects of their search during the 
night. Morford, however, was informed of this fact by a 
citizen, and, in consequenjce, lay concealed all the next 
day, making his way safely to Murfreesborough; with all 
of his company, the day after. . 



LITTLE EDDIE, THE DEUMMER EOT. 

A few days before our regiment received orders to 
join General Lyon, on his march to Wilson's Creek, the 
drummer of our company was taken sick, and conveyed 
to the hospital, and on the evening preceding the day 
that we were to march, a negro was arrested within the 
lines of the camp, and brought before our captain, who 
asked him, "what business he had within' the lines?" 

He replied : " I know a drummer that you would like 
to enlist in your company, and I have come to tell you 
of it." He was immediately requested to inform the 
drummer that if he would enlist for our short term 
of service he would be allowed extra pay, and to do this, 
he must be on the ground early in the morning. The 
negro was then passed beyond the guard. 

On the following morning there appeared before the 
captain's quarters during the beating "of the reveille, a 
good-looking, middle-aged women, dressed in deep mourn- 
ing, leading by the hand a sharp, sprightly-looking boy, 
apparently about twelve or thirteen years of age. 

Her story was soon told. She was from East Ten- 
nessee, where her husband had been killed by the rebels, 
and all their property destroyed. She had come to St. 
Louis in search of her sister, but not finding her, and 
being destitute of money, she thought if she could pro- 
cure a situation for her boy as a drummer for the short 
time that we had to remain in the service, she could find 



66 LITTLE EDDIE, THE DRUMMER BOY. 

employment for herself, and perhaps find her sister by 
the time we were discharged. 

During the rehearsal of her story the little fellow kept 
his eyes intently fixed upon the countenance of the cap- 
tain, who was about to express a determination not to 
take so small a boy, when he spoke out — 

" Don't be afraid, captain, I can drum." 

This was spoken with so much confidence, that the 
captain immediately observed, with a smile — 

" Well, well, sergeant, bring the drum, and order our 
fifer to come forward." 

In a few moments the drum was produced, and our 
fifer, a tall, round-shouldered, good-natured fellow, from 
the Dubuque mines, who stood, when erect, something 
over six feet in height, soon made his appearance. 

Upon being introduced to his new comrade, he stooped 
down, with his hands resting upon his knees, that were 
thrown forward into an acute angle, and after peering 
into the little fellow's face a moment, he observed — 

" My little man, can you drum ?" 

'' Yes, sir," he replied, " I drummed for Captain Hill in 
Tennessee." 

Our fifer immediately commenced straightening him- 
self upward, until all the angles in his person had disap- 
peared, when he placed his fife in his mouth, and played 
the " Flowers of Edenborough," one of the most difficult 
things to follow with the drum that could have been se- 
lected, and nobly did the little fellow follow him, showing 
himself to be a master of the drum. When the music 
ceased, our captain turned to the mother and observed — 

" Madam, I will take your boy. What is his name ?" 

" Edward Lee," she replied ; then placing her hand 
upon the captain's arm, she continued, " Captain, if he is 
not killed — " here her maternal feelings overcame her 
utterances, and she bent down over her boy and kissed 
him upon the forehead. 



LITTLE EDDIE, THE DRUMMER BOY. 57 

As she arose, slie observed : " Captain, you will bring 
Lim back with _you, won't you?" - 

" Yes, yes," lie replied, " we will be certain to bring 
him back with us. We shall be discharged in six 
weeks." 

In an hour after, our company led the Iowa First out 
of camp, our drum . and fife playing " The girl I left 
behind me." Eddie, as we called him, soon became a 
great favorite with all the men in the companv. When 
any of the boys had returned from a horticultural excur- 
sion, Eddie's share of the peaches and melons was the first 
apportioned out. During our heavy and fatiguing march 
from Eolla to Springfield, it was often amusing to see 
our long-legged fifer wading through the mud with our 
little drummer mounted upon his back — and always in 
that position when fording streams. 

During the fight at Wilson's Creek, I was stationed 
with a part of our company on the right of Totten's bat- 
tery, while the balance of our company with a part of 
the Illinois regiment was ordered down into a deep ra- 
vine upon our left, in which it was known a portion of 
the enemy was concealed, with whom they were soon 
engaged. The contest in the ravine continuing some 
time, Totten suddenly wheeled his battery upon the 
enemy in that quarter, when they soon retreated to the 
high ground behind their lines. 

In less than twenty minutes after Totten had driven 
the enemy from the ravine, the word passed from man 
to man throughout the army, " Lyon is killed," and soon 
after, hostilities having ceased upon both sides, the order 
came for our main force to fall back upon Springfield, 
while a part of the Iowa First and two companies of the 
Missouri regiment were to camp upon the ground, and 
cover the retreat next mornins^. 

That night I was detailed for guard duty, my turn of 
guard closing with the morning call. When I went out 
with the officer as a relief, I found that my post was 



58 LITTLE EDDIE, THE DRUMMER BOY. 

•upon a "higli eminence that overlooked the deep ravine, 
in which our men had engaged the enemy, until Totten's 
battery came to their assistance. It was a dreary, lone- 
some beat. The moon had gone down in the early part 
of the night, while the stars twinkled dimly through a 
hazy atmosphere, lighting up imperfectly the surround- 
ing objects. Occasionally I would place my ear near 
the ground and listen for the sound of footsteps, but all 
was silent save the far-off howling of the wolf, that seemed 
to scent upon the evening air the banquet that we had 
been preparing for him. 

The hours passed slowly away, when at length the 
morning light began to streak along the eastern sky, 
making surrounding objects more plainly visible. Pre- 
sently I heard a drum beat up the morning call. At 
first I thought it came from the camp of the enemy across 
the creek ; but as I listened, I found that it came np from 
the deep ravine ; for a few minutes it was silent, and 
then as it became more light I heard it again. I listened 
— the sound of the drum was familiar to me — and I 
knew that it was — 

Our drummer boy from Tennessee, 
Beating for help the reveille. 

I was about to desert my post to go to his assistance, 
when I discovered the officer of the guard approaching 
with two men. We all listened to the sound, and were 
satisfied that it was Eddie's drum. I asked permission 
to go to his assistance. The of&cer hesitated, saying that 
the orders were to march in twenty minutes. I promised 
to be back in that time, and he consented. I immediately 
started down the hill through the thick "undergrowth, 
and upon reaching the valley I followed the sound of 
the drum, and soon found him seated "upon the ground, 
his back leaning against the trunk of a fallen tree, while 
his drum hung upon a bush in front of him, reaching 



LITTLE EDDIE, THE DRUMMER BOY. 59 

nearly to the ground. As soon as "he discovered me he 
dropped his drum-sticks and exclaimed-^ 

" O corporal I I am so glad to see you. - Give me a 
drink," reaching out his hand for my canteen, which 
was empty. 

I immediately turned to bring him some water from 
the brook that I could hear rippling through the bushes 
near b'y, when thinking that I was about to leave him, 
he commenced crying, sajdng — 

" Don't leave me, corporal — I can't walk." 

I was soon back with the water, when I discovered 
that both of his feet had been shot away by a cannon 
ball. After satisfying his thirst, he looked up into my 
face, and said — 

" You don't think I will die, corporal, do you ? This 
man said I would not — he said the surgeon could cure 
my feet." 

I 110^ discovered a man lying in the grass near him. 
By his dress I recognized him as belonging to the enemy. 
It appeared that he had been shot through the bowels, 
and had fallen near where Eddie lay. Knowing that he 
could not live, and seeing the condition of the boy, he had 
crawled to him, taken off his buckskin suspenders, and 
corded the little fellow's legs below the knee, and ' then 
lay down and died. 

While he was telling me- these particulars, I heard 
the tramp of cavalry coming down the ravine, and in a 
moment a scout of the enemy was upon us, and I was 
taken prisoner. I request^! the officer to take Eddie up 
in front of him, and he did so, carrying him with great 
tenderness and care. When we reached the camp of the 
enemy the little fellow was dead. 



60 OLD BEN, THE MOUNTAIN SCOUT. 



OLD "BtE, THE MOUITTAIN SCOUT. 

How old Old Ben was no one knew exactly — not even 
Old Ben himself. He had been called Old Ben so far back 
that the memory of the oldest inhabitant served not to 
remember him by any other designation. Ben said that 
he must have been born old, for he had dim recollections 
of his mother calling him an " old-fashioned feller" before 
he was big enough to weed the garden. When he ar- 
rived at man's estate the girls invariably called him 
either Old Bachelor Ben or Old^ Ben. So he had made 
up his mind to one thing, and that was, he never was 
young Ben. He was never known to have been sick, 
except it was that he had " the cussed shakes and fever a 
spell." With that exception, he had never invested much 
in patent medicines or other doctor's stuff, and was con- 
sequently a vigorous man, standing firm in his boots. He 
was tall, and had not much flesh to spare, but he often 
remarked that it "tuk a lean hoss for along race, and he 
was one on 'em." He knew the Mississippi, Cumberland, 
and Tennessee Elvers, he said, better than he did his 
Testament, and had acquired considerable fame for his 
skill at the oar and the wheel. He was the man to take 
a craft safe throughv a shute or over dangerous places, 
and for that duty was still preferred to others many years 
his junior. As for old Tennessee, he knew every inch 
of her " sile," and on that " p'int" he wouldn't yield a 
notch to any man, living or dead. His courage was 
known to be of the right stripe, and he was set down as 
a tough old knot that would turn the edge of many a 
bright axe if an attempt was made to split him. 

At the time the hurricane of rebellion swept over the 
State,- Old Ben was on a visit to Knoxville, where he was 
well known. The many outrages perpetrated upon those 
who refused to succumb to the rebel sway so aroused his 
ire that he at length said that he believed that he was 



OLD BEN, THE MOUNTAIN SCOUT. Gl 

bes^innino; to turn "Ininn," and that he couldn't die until 
he had had revenge upon the scaly varmintS; who, he as- 
serted, w^re mean enough to cut their grandmothers' 
throats for the sake of getting what the old women had 
in their stockings. One night h« had been listening to a 
chap, whom he knew as a briefless lawyer from Clarksville, 
haranguing a crowd in a bar-room, and growing indignant 
at what he considered the fellow's insolence, he interrupted 
him Avith — 

" " See here, stranger, yer kin talk jest like clock-work 
about them cussed abolishunists^and every one knows 
that I hates 'em as I do pizen — but I'll jest bet yer drinks 
for the crowd that yer never owned a nigger for 'em to 
steal." 

This challenge from Old Ben, which somewhat stag- 
gered the speaker, was received with much secret satis- 
faction by several Union men of the group, who, from 
necessity, were obliged to conceal their sentiments, and 
created a general laugh. It was a few minutes before 
the lawyer could recover his self-possession. He then 
drew himself up to assume as great a degree of dignity 
as possible, and fixing what he intended as a withering 
look on Old Ben, while a contemptuous smile played 
around the corners of his mouth, he said — 

" Old man, I suppose you are some of the Union rub- 
bish that has not yet been swept out of the State." 

" Thar yer right. I'm Union clear through to the 
marrow, and if I had my way I'd hang up a few such 
chaps as you ar', who never work, but ar' everlastin' 
smellin' around for some office, and who have brought all 
this trouble on the country. Yer ar' now goin' about de- 
ceivin' honest people — tellin' 'em that the whole North 
ar' agoin' to turn nigger stealers, and that the only way 
for southern men to pertect thar.- property is for 'em to 
dissolve the Union and 'stablisli a one-hoss consarn, with 
such one-hoss chaps as you at the head of it. I'd hang 



62 OLD BEN, THE MOUNTAIN SCOUT. 

y er up without j udge or j ury . That would be the quickest 
way to settle the mischief yer have madev" 

A loud braying from some of the converts to the new 
doctrines greeted the remarks of Old Ben. But nothing 
daunted thereat, he exclaimed — • 

'' Yer may bray jest as much as yer a mind to. But 
yer kin remember that jackasses do the same thing. And 
any one who jines the secession crew ain't fit to be named 
the same day with a jackass. Them's my sentiments, 
and I don't care who knows 'em." 

" Look out, Old Ben. ! You'll be talkin' treason next, 
and th^n you'll be arrested," said one of the crowd who 
sympathized with the rebels, yet was very friendly with 
Old Ben. 

"Treason!" ejaculated the lawyer. "He has been 
doing nothing else but talking treason, and should be ar- 
rested forthwith." 

" Oh no ; Old Ben won't do any harm !" exclaimed an- 
other secessionist, who d.id not wish to see the old man 
molested. 

" You've arrested a good many honest people who never 
harmed any one, and I expect my turn will come one of 
these days," replied Old Ben. 

" You may depend upon that !" exclaimed the lawyer. 
" It won't be long before you are elevated !" and here he 
gave a peculiar jerk with the hand which he held near 
his neck. " If you don't mend your manners, you will 
go up soon,^old man." 

Old Ben was about to reply, but was interrupted by 
the entrance of a man, followed by a number of others, 
who called the lawyer one side, and then entered into a 
low but earnest conversation with him. The new-comer 
was a thick-set, brutal-looking man, with a face well 
covered with heavy black hair. He was generally known 
as Black Dave, and his business had been that of a negro- 
trader ; but he was now at the head of a band of ruffians 
who, under his direction, had been guilty of many acts 



OLD BEN, THE MOUNTAIN SCOUT, 63 

of barbarism. The lawyer was a sort of lieutenant and 
adyiser to the band. Old Ben pointed to the spot where 
they stood, and said — 

"Some dirty business is afloat, I reckon, when two 
such chaps get together. One on 'em, who never owned 
a nigger or enough money to pay his licker bill, talks 
about the ' North stealin' our niggers !' Them's his words. 
The other one has run off more niggers, and sold 'em 
down south, than the abolishunists have stolen these ten 
years. If them ar' the qhaps what ar' agoin' to be yer 
leaders, ye'll soon smell so bad that the devil won't allow 
yer to come within rifle-shot of the front door of hell. 
He will have yer all pitched down the back way 1" 

After giving utterance to these sentiments Old Ben 
turned on his heel and strolled leisurely out of the room. 
He had not gone far ere he was overtaken by one of the 
party from the bar-room, whom he knew as a sound Union 
man, and who said, in a low tone — 

" You will have to be very careful of yourself after 
what you have said. I overheard Black Dave tell the 
other that your case would be attended to shortly." 

" They'll attend to me shortly, will they, eh ?" ejacu- 
lated Old . Ben. " Then, I say, let 'em come on ! I'll 
cling to the Union as long as thar's a splinter left ! I 
can't live much longer, any way, but while I do live I'll 
live like a man !" 

"You are well acquainted with the mountains, are you 
not?" 

" Eeckon I am." 

" You know that a great many Union men, who have 
been driven from their homes, have been obliged to seek 
a hiding-place there until such times as the Union army 
gets this way." 

"Yes, I know it; and what is more, I'm agoin' to 
make one on 'em. I itch to have a little vengeance on 
them scaly varmints. If the Union men about here had 



64 _ OLD BEN, THE MOUNTAIN SCOUT. 

more of the Parson's stuff in 'em, we'd make screecliin' 
work among th^rn turkej-buzzards." 

"But you can't expect all men to be Brownlows. His 
very boldness awed them for a while, but you see they 
are getting over that now. Men have to be prudent for 
the sake of their families. ■ If you will come up to my 
house to-morrow night, you will hear something that will 
do you good, and how you can be of vast service to the 
Union men in this vicinity. Will you come ?" 

"Yes; nibethar!" 

Old Ben's companion noticing Black Dave and the 
lawyer approaching, walked quickly forward. It was 
rather a secluded spot where they had been standing, and 
Old Ben being in the shad^e was not observed by either 
Black Dave or the lawyer. They halted, and Black 
Dave, with great gesticulation, said — 

"I've sworn to have vengeance on the old cuss, and 
now is my time [ He didn't think that I was good 
enough for his daughter. If it hadn't been for him, I 
believe I could have got the girl ; but as I've lost her, 
I'm bent upon having my pay." 

" What do you propose to do ? Has he got much that 
we could lay our hands upon?" said the lawyer. 

" We'll go out to his place toward midnight, and drag 
the old hound out of his nest. If I once" fairly get him 
in my power, I'll make him sing psalms. I will let him 
know if I ain't as good as any of his breed ! He has got 
a couple of fine horses ; we'll take them, any how. But 
come, let us go back now and have a drink with the boys ! 
They'll miss us. You see I don't want any of 'em to 
know where we are agoing to. It might get talked about, 
and some Hessian spy give him the alarm." 

As they disappeared Old Ben came forth from a hiding- 
place where be had ensconced himself for the purpose of 
learning what mischief they were planning. Looking 
after the retreating figures he muttered, half aloud — 

" I'll head oft* them devils yet, or else I'll give 'em leave 



OLD BEN, THE MOUNTAIN SCOUT. 65 

to call me a skunk ! The old man whar right in show- 
ing Black Dave the door. He should have kicked him 
out. That's what I would have done. But I'll head off 
the villains! I'll head 'em off!'.' he ejaculated, as he 
hastened forward. 

Black Dave and his lieutenant returned to the bar-room, 
where they with their companions indulged in a drunken 
revel. Tc^ward midnight he got together some ten or a 
dozen of those who were the least intoxicated, and started 
out on his work of vengeance. 

This band of "defenders of the rights of Southern 
irien," as they styled themselves, had proceeded a con- 
siderable distance from the tavern when their commander 
ordered them to halt in front of a modest-looking dwell- 
ing, surrounded by pleasant grounds. He then addressed 
them as follows : — 

" Boys ! now we are about to catch one of the blackest- 
hearted traitors in the South. He is a regular white- 
livered Lincolnite, and it ain't to be expected that we will 
show him much mercy. So, follow me !" 

Black Dave then opened the gate and went toward the 
house, followed by his band. He gave several loud raps 
on the door with the butt of a pistol, and it not being 
promptly opened, he applied the heel of his heavy boot 
and administered a number of lusty kicks. The door 
was at length opened by rather an elderly female, who 
had a light in her hand. As soon as Black Dave caught 
a glimpse of her countenance he said, in a gruff voice—;- 

" We want your old man. Tell him to turn out quick, 
and not to keep us a-waiting." 

" He is not at home," was the mild response. 

" You lie ! we know better ! If you don't turn him 
out, we'll go in and drag him out 1" 

" I assure you, sir, that he is not in the house." 

" Come, boys, follow me ! We won't put up with any 
of the old woman's nonsense." 

Black Dave, as he uttered these words, entered the 
5 '# 



66 OLD BEN, THE MOUNTAIN SCOUT. 

house, accompanied by several of his followers. After 
a lapse of a few minutes he returned, with a countenance 
blacker than usual, exclaiming — 

" The old hound has run away, boys ; but the black- 
hearted traitor don't escape my vengeance so easy. Just 
throw a torch in the barn yonder." 

" Oh ! do not fire the place ! Have some mercy for the 
family !" entreated the old lady. 

" What is the family to me ? I wasn't good enough 
to make one of them ! They are a brood of traitors, the 
whole of them, and if you don't want 'em roasted, you had 
better turn 'em out I" 

After giving utterance to these brutal words he strode 
off toward the outbuildings, seizing a torch from one of 
his followers as he passed along. Looking in the stable 
and finding that the horses were gone, he gave utterance 
to a vile oath, and then threw the torch among some loose 
hay. Watching the flames as they crept slowly along, 
while a fiendish smile spread over his features, he told 
one of his band to pick up some of the hay and follow 
him. He then went toward the dwelling, and ordered the 
man to throw the hay on the kitchen floor ; and then, 
despite the entreaties of the old lady and the cries of two 
or three children, who had been hurried from their beds 
and stood in their night-clothes clinging to their mother, 
the ruffian applied the torch. When the flames were 
fairly under way he said — 

" Come on, boys ! Leave 'em to shift for themselves. 
Let us see if we can't track the old hound." 

The ruffian then, followed by his band, retreated down 
the road, turning occasionally to behold the flames as 
they licked up that once happy home.' 

The next evening Old Ben was prompt to his appoint- 
ment, and as he listened to the narration of the gutrage 
to a party of Union men, he exclaimed, as his countenance 
glowed with excitement — 

'* The miserable scaly buzzards ! I wouldn't a thought 



OLD BEN, THE MOUNTAIN SCOUT. 61 

* 

they'd gone so far ; they're worse nor Injuns ! I reckoned 
it whar all right when I gave him the alarm and he got 
safe off. But to fire the house, and turn the wimen folks 
and children out doors that time of night — I swar I'll 
have vengeance for it ! It mout not be quite reg'lar, but 
yer kin jest sot Old Ben down for Black Dave and that 
white-livered skunk from Clarksville. If I don't fix 
thar flint for 'em then I won't trust bullet and powder 
any more. Thar's no use of yer say in' any thin' agin it," 
he said, as he raised up his hand toward one of the as- 
sembly, who he supposed was about to remonstrate, " for 
I've fixed the hull matter. It's no knowin' what they'll 
do next, so they've got to go. The devil wants his due, 
and it is about time they whar on the road to see the 
chief of all secessionists." 

" It is what they deserve !" ejaculated one of the party. 

This sentiment was generally concurred in by the as- 
sembly. The affairs of that part of the State were then 
discussed, and it was considered that it would be of 
great importance if communication could be kept up be- 
tween the Union men in the mountains, and those who 
yet remained at home." For the performance of this duty 
they all agreed that Old Ben, from his thorough know- 
ledge of that region, was peculiarly qualified. He at 
once consented to act, but put in as a proviso, that he 
was not to be deprived of the privilege of attending to 
the case of Black Dave and his lieutenant. 

In the meantime Black Dave, intent upon glutting his 
vengeance, set his spies to work to discover the where- 
abouts of the man whose homestead he had so ruthlessly 
destroyed. A number of days passed, and the spies were 
unable to give any satisfactory report, other than that 
they thought he had gone to the mountains. At this 
Black Dave's rage grew furious, and he swore that he 
would seek revenge in another quarter. The fate he in- 
tended for the father should be visited upon the son-in- 
law, his successful rival, who .was settled in a quiet spot 



68 OLD BEN, THE MOUNTAIN SCOUT. 

some miles from Knoxville. Black Dave knew that his 
rival was suspected of being a Union man, and that was 
a sufficient cloak for him in his design of villainy. 

It was on a dark and gloomy night that Black Dave 
got his band of ruffians together and set out on his work 
of vandalism. We will not detain the reader with an 
account of his progress along the road. Arriving at the 
house, his summons was answered Ify a trembling black 
servant, who, in answer to a furious demand for his mas- 
ter, stammered out that he was not at home. The des- 
perado's quick eye at once detected from the servant's 
manner that he was endeavoring to conceal something, 
and he immediately ordered his lieutenant to search the 
house. This duty the lieutenant .performed in a style 
worthy of his leader. The wife, notwithstanding her 
delicate health, was brutally told to |)oint out where her, 
husband was hid, as they wanted to give him a rope ele- 
vation. All feelings of humanity were set at naught, 
and the search was made in the most brutal and reckless 
manner. But it proved fruitless. The intended victim, 
hearing the noise of the band as they approached, at once 
suspected their object, and, at the solicitation of his wife, 
consented to secrete himself, and succeeded in making 
his escape. 

Black Dave fairly foamed with rage when he heard 
that he was again foiled — that his rival could not be 
found. 

" The sneaking cur is hid somewhere !" he exclaimed. 
" But I'll smoke him and his brood out. Fire the house, 
boys." 

Even the entreaties of her whom he once professed to 
love failed to stay the hand of the incendiary. Black 
Dave was inexorable. The torch was applied, and soon 
tlie flames began to creep along — slowly at first, as if 
gathering strength, and then suddenly they darted up 
their forked tongues and enveloped the whole building 
in a fiery circle. The flames, reflected by the heavy at- 



OLD BEN, THE MOUNTAIN SCOUT. 69 

mospliere, shed a brilliant light over the surrounding 
country. For a while Black Dave stood gazing tipon 
his work, while a sort of hellish malignity spread itself 
over his features, totally unmoved "by the cries of the 
terror-stricken women and children. He then ordered 
the servant whom he had first seen to be tied to a wheel 
of a large wagon, and lashed until he revealed the where- 
abouts of his master* For Black Dave to order was to 
be obeyed, and the trembling black was immediately 
seized, tied, and flogged. The blows fell fast and heavy, 
but the faithful black, notwithstandinsr the blood 
streamed down his back, refused to , betray his master. 
The ruffian who administered' the blows paused for a 
moment as if to take breath, which his leader observing, 
he shouted — 

" Give the black dog another dose, and lay them on 
lively!" 

The words had scarcely fallen from his lips ere a bullet 
whizzed past the negro and buried itself in the brain of 
the ruffian leader, and he fell to the earth to rise no 
more. He had given his last order. His lieutenant, 
who stood near, sprang forward, and was. in the act of 
stooping to lift the prostrate form of his captain when 
crash went another bullet through his brain, and he fell 
upon the body of him who had been his companion in 
villainy, and who was now his companion in death. The 
ruffian who had administered the blows stood for a mo- 
ment as if transfixed to the spot, and then, throwing 
down the whip, he attempted to run, but had taken but 
a few steps ere a swift- winged messenger sent him tra- 
velling the same road with his leaders. Consternation 
now seemed to seize the remainder of the ruffians, and 
they took to their heels, many in their flight throwing 
away their rifles, which were soon picked up by Old Ben 
and his companions, and their contents sent after their 
flying owners. 

It was not long before the pale and terror-stricken wife 



•70 OLD BEN, THE MOUNTAIN SCOUT. 

was surrounded by her hnsband and father. After an 
affectionate embrace, the father, picking np a lighted 
torch, approached the place where the bodies lay. 
Stooping down to examine the leaders, he in a few 
moments exclaimed — 

" Dead ! — both of them I Old Ben hit both in nearly 
the same spot !" 

So it was. The father being anxious to see his daughter 
and her mother, who since the destruction of the old 
homestead had resided with her, was accompanied by Old 
Ben and another companion for that purpose^ As they 
approached the farm they beheld the light from the 
burning dwelling, at once rightly conjectured the cause, 
and who was at work. They crept stealthily along, and 
secreted themselves until a favorable opportunity should 
afford them a chance of being of service. Old Ben in- 
sisted that he alone should do the shooting, and that they 
could do the loading, as no shots were to be wasted. As 
he observed Black Dave and his lieutenant standing near 
together, he exclaimed, in a low tone — 

" Keerful ! keerful, now ! They ar' both mine !" And 
creeping to a favorable spot, he discharged the shots 
which finished the worldly career of the ruffians. 

Black Dave's rival, being secreted where he could 
view what was going on, seeing the ruffian leaders fall, 
at once judged that friends were at hand, and he sprang 
forward to render his aid in the destruction of the van- 
dals. When.it was ascertained that they were com- 
pletely routed, arrangements were made for conveying 
the family to a place of safety, and in the arrangements 
the master did not forget his lacerated but faithful 
servant. 

During the next fortnight several of Black Dave's fol- 
lowers were found dead, and upon examination it was 
discovered that each one had been shot in nearly the 
same place in the forehead, and it was concluded that 
they had all been killed by the same person. The con- 



ARMY WINGS AS EXPLAINED BY ONE OF THE BOYS. Tl 

elusion was correct, for Old Ben, in liis scouting duties, 
sent many a " buzzard," as he called those who preyed 
upon the bones of Union men, to his final account. 



suEEOumiua tiye of them. 

After the advance of the Union army npon Bragg at 
Tullahoma, and his retreat, the Pioneer Brigade pushed 
on to Elk Eiver to repair a bridge. While one of its 
men, a private, was bathing in the river, five of Bragg's 
soldiers, guns in hand, came to the bank and took aim at 
the swimmer, one of them shouting — 

"Come in here, you Yank, out. of the wet!" 

The Federal was quite sure that he was " done for," 
and at once obeyed the order. After dressing himself, 
he was thus accosted :— - 

"You surrender, our prisoner, do you?" 

" Yes ; of course I do." 

" That's kind. Now we'll surrender to you !" And the 
five stacked arms before him, their spokesman adding — 

" We've done with 'em, and have said to old Bragg, 
* good-by I' Secesh is played out. Now you surround us 
and take us into your camp." 

This was done accordingly, and is but one of hundreds 
of instances of wholesale desertion in July and August, 
1863, in Lower Tennessee. 



AEMY WINGS AS EXPLAINED BY ONE OP THE BOYS. 

"You say 'you can't understand alDOut army wings, 
they being crushed, falling back, &c.' Well, here it is, 
in short. 

"Suppose our army to be like a bird at Stone Eiver, 
head towards Murfreesborough, its body, Thomas's corps, 
being the centre, McCook's corps the right wing, spread 



Y2 IRISH WIT EVER READY. 

wide open, and Crittenden's corps, thus spread, the left 
wing. That will do well enough for illustration. 

"Well, Bragg's armj pile in on McCook's wing at its 
tip, and break off* an inch or so by capturing batteries 
and several hundred of our men. And the feathers fly 
mightily all along that wing, and it is overpowered, and 
falls back in retreat, just as the bird would fold its wing, 
until it laps fight up 'longside the centre. That's the 
way it was done. 

''Bat they didn't move our head nor centre, though — ■ 
nary ! Well, the reb cavalry, of which, they had a 
powerful slue during this fight, came round on our rear 
on the big Nashville road, where were our hundreds of 
wagons and ambulances. There, we will say, is the bird's 
tail ; and the supply-wagons, and doctors' tools and 
niggers, we'll call them the tail-feathers. Now, them 
feathers flew some, you better believe I" 



lEISH WIT EYEE EEADY. 

The surrender of Lexington, Mo., was rendered a ne- 
cessity by the want of ammunition, as well as by the want 
of water. A few of the companies had one or two rounds 
left, but the majority had fired their last bullet. After 
the surrender, an officer was detailed by Price to collect 
the ammunition and place it in safe charge. The officer, 
addressing Adjutant Cosgrove, asked him to have the 
ammunition surrendered. Cosgrove called up a dozen 
men, one after the other, and exhibiting the empty cart- 
ridge-boxes, said to the astonished rebel officer, " I believe, 
sir, we gave you all the ammunition we had before we 
had stopped fighting. Had there been any more, upon 
my word, you should have had it, sir. But I will in- 
quire, and if by accident there is a cartridge left, I will ' 
let you know." The rebel officer turned away, reflecting 



MISS OLDOM; THE KENTUCKY HEROINE. IS 

upon the glorious victory of having captured men who 
had fired their last shot. 

An Irishman from Battle Creek, Michigan, was at Bull 
Run battle, and was somewhat startled when the head of 
his companion on the left hand was knocked off by a 
cannon-ball. A few moments after, however, a spent ball 
broke the fingers of his comrade on the other side. The 
latter threw down his gun and yelled with pain, when 
the Irishman rushed to him, exclaiming, "Blasht your 
soul, you owld woman, shtop cryin' ; you make more 
noise about it than the man that losht his head I" 



MISS OLDOM THE KENTUCKY EEEOINE. 

A marauding band of rebels in Kentucky, on their 
way to Mount Sterling, stopped at the house of a Mr. 
Oldom, and he being absent at the time, plundered him 
of all his horses, and among them a valuable one belong- 
iog to his daughter Cornelia. She resisted the outrage 
as long as she could, but finding all her efforts in vain, 
she sprang upon another horse and started post haste 
toward the town to give the alarm. Her first animal 
gave out, when she seized another, and meeting the mes- 
senger from Middleton, she sent him as fast as his horse 
could carry him to convey the necessary warning to 
Mount Sterling, where he arrived most opportunely. 
Miss Oldom then retraced her way toward home, taking 
with her a double-barrelled shot-gun. She found a pair 
of saddle-bags on the road, belonging to a rebel officer, 
which contained a pair of revolvers, and soon she came up 
with the advancing marauders, and ordered them to halt. 
Perceiving that one of the thieves rode her horse, she 
ordered him to surrender her horse ; this he refused, and 
finding that persuasion would not gain her ends, she 
levelled the shot-gun at the rider, commanded him, as 
Damon did the traveller, "down from his horse," and 



T4 FIGHTING ON HIS OWN HOOK. 

threatened to fire if he did not comply. Her indomitable 
spirit at last prevailed, and the robbers, seeing something 
in her eye that spoke a terrible menace, surrendered her 
favorite steed. When she had regained his back, and 
patted him on the neck, he gave* a neigh of mingled 
triumph and recognition, and she turned his h«ad home- 
ward and cantered off as leisurely as if she were taking 
her morning exercise. 



riGHTDfa ON HIS OWN HOOK. 

"When the martial and patriotic fires began to blaze 
along the hill-tops of Western New York, and young 
men were rushing by tens of thousands to join the na- 
tional standard, one brave fellow who seized the torch 
with the wildest enthusiasm, and worked hardest in the 
cause, found it impossible to get his name enrolled with 
the company of his own town — Bloomfield. 

All his companions passed examination. When the 
surgeon came to B. F. Surby, he found that he had a 
stiff knee, caused by the kick of a horse while he was a 
boy ; and he was rejected. 

He could run as fast, mount a horse as quick, play as 
good a game of ball, and shoot as well as any one of his 
comrades — better, it was acknowledged, than most. He 
was athletic, lithe, hard, spry, and made for action and 
daring. He was twenty-five years old, and all ready to 
fight. But, with all this, he could not go ; he was, how- 
ever, determined to go, and no surgeon or recruiting of- 
ficer could stop him. 

When the company marched to Canandaigua, he went 
with them to join the regiment. He put in his pocket 
all the money he could scrape together, and paid his own 
way as long as it lasted ; and when it gave out, partly 
by the help of Kis companions, and partly by eking out 
in mother-wit what he lacked in cash, he reached the 



FIGHTINa ON HIS OWN HOOK. 75 

head -quarters of General King, where his name not ap- 
pearing on the roll, he was asked to give an account of 
himself. 
. What follows is in his own words : — 

" Once beyond the Potomac, I'd be blazed if I wouldn't 
have a chance. So I tried the old Bloomfield game 
over ; but it was no go : I could not put on the uniform 
of a soldier; I could not have a gun to kill rebels. But 
I was bound to fetch it, some way or other. I finally 
got my case before General King, and he got an officer 
of his staff* to take me as his orderly : so I had my way 
at last, and once in the army (if I did get- in at the back 
door) I could go along, and ride a good horse into the 
bargain. That finished the stiff knee business, which 
had bothered the Bloomfield surgeon. So I thanked the 
stars for my good luck, and waited for the first battle. 

" This was in a reconnoissance in force towards Orange 
Court-House, where we had some nice amusement — ^,just 
enough to stir up the blood of green Western New York 
boys. 

"But nothing very serious happened till the battle of 
South Mountain, which began to look like war as I had 
read of it in the histories of great generals. Of course 
you know all about that battle. 

" But then came some bad luck. I'd been thinking all 
the time that it was too good to last. The officer I was 
serving got sick after the battle of Cedar Mountain, and 
had to come On to Washington. ,0f course I had to come 
too ; and here I remained waiting on him several weeks. 
In the meantime I lost all chance to be in the battles of 
Gainesville and Bull Run. 

" When my commander got better, but not well 
enough to take the field, he sent me over to look after 
his horses, and, knowing my anxiety to be with the bri- 
gade, he gave me permission to join it, and the use of 
his horse. 

" I lost no time in doing that. I got in the staff again, 



76 FIGHTING ON HIS OWN HOOK. 

and began to feel at home. General King had fallen sick, 
and was succeeded by General Hatch. We w*ere in 
the splendid battle of South Mountain, where I had one 
of the great days, worth more than all my life before. Oh, 
how glorious the old flag looked every time the smoke 
rolled off, and we saw her still streaming ! 

"In the heat of this bloody engagement, when our men 
.were fighting just right, the general was wounded, and, 
being near him at the moment, I had the sad satisfaction 
of helping to carry him from the field." 

"But," I inquired, "as you seem to have been where 
the shot flew thick, had vou not met with any mishap so 
far?" 

" Nary a scratch — nor the captain's horse." 

" Well, what came next ?" 

"The grand and blood-red field of Antietam, all of 
which I saw ; and I never expect to see a better one — 
nor do I want to. That was no boys' play." 

At this point the surgeon of the hospital, where the 
narrator lay, came up to see how his patient was getting 
along. After examining his leg, he pronounced it doing 
well enottgh. " That will give you no more trouble. 
But I am inclined to think I shall have to take this arm 
off." 

" You are welcome to it, doctor. I think it has done 
me about all the good it ever will." 

" Well, now for Antietam," I said, as I once more took 
a chair by his side. 

" General Doubleday took command of us there, in 
place of the wounded General Hatch. In forming his 
division the night before the battle, while the general and 
his staff' were riding along through the lines, a rebel bat- 
tery opened on us with shot and shell. A soldier was 
standing about two rods in front of me. A small shell 
took his head clean offj and struck my horse in the side, 
just behind my leg, cutting the girths, and exploding inside 
the horse. I only remember the fire flew pretty thick, 



FIGHTING ON HIS OWN HOOK. 11 

and after in some way getting np into the air liiglier than 
I was Ijefore, I next found myself on the ground among 
some of the pieces of the horse. 

" The first thought was, ' There goes the captain's horse, 
and I'm left to foot it !' A somewhat sudden falling back 
took place, and I started. 'But, by Jove, I won't lose 
that saddle !' and back I put to get it. While I was 
working awaj as fast as I could, the general rode by, and 
seeing what I was doing, sung out — 

" ' Quit that, fool, if you care anything about your life 1' 
and as I found it rather difficult to untangle the saddle, 
I concluded to leave with what traps I had, and return 
after dark. I did ; but it was too late. 

"I f^lt bad. 'What will the captain say? I've lost 
his horse and saddle, and God knows what. Well, I'll 
see what I can do ; I haven't lost my small arms, at any 
rate; and perhaps I can manage to get another horse 
before the battle opens in the morning.' " 

"liot hurt yourself?" 

"Nary a bruise. But I was pretty well spattered up 
with* blood, I remember. So that night, after looking 
round, and not getting my eye on a horse, I lay down 
■under a fence near our right wing, and thought I would 
take a nap. ' But I cared more for a good horse than a 
good sleep. As luck would have it, I heard, pretty soon, 
some horses coming down pretty fast. They had evi- 
dently broken loose. I sprung for the first one, and 
missed him. The next was a few rods behind. ' Now,' 
says I to myself, ' is your last chance ;' and it was, for 
there were only two. I struck for him, and caught him 
by the bridle-rein. It was light enough to see, and I 
soon found out I had got a good horse for the captain. I 
brought him up to the fence and lay down, being pretty 
well satisfied that what further running that animal did 
that night he would have to do with me on his back." 

" Whom did the horse belong to ?" 

" He belonged to me." 



T8 FIGHTING ON HIS OWN HOOK. 

" Where did lie come from ?" 

" Upon my spul, I forgot to inquire." 

" The next morning all was astir, for a battle which had 
yet no name. But everybody was well enough satisfied 
that a great fight was coming. It was plain as sunrise 
that there was to be a fight, and that every man in the 
great Army of the Potomac knew it, and was ready to do 
his duty. 

"There was a different feeling among the men and 
ofiicers the night before, and that morning, from what I 
had seen before any other battle. Each man knew that 
defeat that day involved the fall of Washington. 

" So passed that wonderful day. When I hitched up at 
night, and got my blanket off' the saddle-bow and un- 
rolled it to go to sleep, I found two Minie balls snugly 
imbedded near the centre of the hard roll — ' Thank you, 
gentlemen ; you fired a shade too low.' So I came off' 
safe enough there, and, when I did think of it, I made up 
my mind I was not born to be shot." 

"Your new horse behaved well?" 

"Finely, and I got very much attached to him. But, 
poor fellow ! I had to kill him to save myself. I was 
fond of riding about inside our lines, and sometimes be- 
yond them. I knew it was rather a risky business ; but 
I did it, part of the time as a volunteer scout, and at 
other times on my own hook, and was not very sorry for 
it, for I now and then got information which may have 
been worth something. 

"I generally managed to get along without any parti- 
cular trouble, and with many a good run managed to get 
home safe. But one night I got into a scrape. 

"I knew that two or three mounted men were near the 
enemy's picket-lines, and, thinking it might pay, I started 
about midnight, and rode in a circuitous way to get near 
enough to reconnoitre from a quarter where I should not 
be suspected. I saw a very fine horse tied up to a tree, 
and I wantecTthat horse. I came very near succeeding. 



FIGHTING ON HIS OWN HOOK. Y9 

But I was suddenly notified by a ball whistling by my 
head that I was discovered. I put out, and, finding my 
horse, put spurs to him. Whistle, whizz, whizz, whistle, 
the balls flew by. It was a close pursuit, and a hard, long 
run. I passed our lines safe. Bat it was too much. My 
horse never was worth much after that. I felt bad about 
it, for the poor fellow had saved my life more than once. 
But I had' taken good care of him, and, after all, what did 
it matter ? It was all in the cruise. 

"Finally, the enemy was before Fredericksburg. 
During a part of that fight we were troubled by the 
enemy's sharp-shooters. They were picking off our offi- 
cers and best artillerists from a very long range. I saw 
how the thing was working, and I managed to get into 
an old deserted house (in which Washington is said to 
have spent some time when young) which could stand a 
pretty heavy shot. 

"I had a splendid rifle, and plenty of ammunition. It 
was a fine cover, and I used it to some advantage. A large 
open window looked out just in the direction I wanted, 
and as fast as I loaded, I slyly took a look out, picked 
my man, and blazed away. I did not stay at the window 
any unnecessary length of time, for generally a bullet 
came whistling through the hole a second or two after 
my flash. 

"Heavier shot at last began to strike; and then, 
after I had fired, I slid round behind a solid stone chim- 
ney standing near the centre of the house. I kept this 
up for a considerable time, till an accident happened. 

" As I was approaching the window for another fire, a 
shell came through the side of the house, and burst about 
three feet over my head. Down I went, of course, and 
began to survey the damage. One piece had struck my 
left arm, making a compound fracture below the elbow ; 
another piece had struck my left leg, just above the 
knee. 

" I thought now, as I had done a pretty good day's 



80 FIGHTING ON HIS OWN HOOK. 

work, I would contrive in some way to haul off for re« 
pairs, and get among my friends. Some of the men at 
a battery not far off had heard the shell explode in the 
house where they knew I was firing, and discovering me, 
carried me off to the hospital quarters, where after a while 
my arm was tinkered up in a hurry, my leg was dressed, 
and I lay down and ate my supper, for I was as hungry 
as a wolf. 

" ' Well, old boy,' said I to myself, ^you have had your 
way: you determined to come to the war, and you did. 
Now look at yourself, and see how you like it.' 

"I did look at myself. I didn't look yqvj handsome, 
it's true ; but I looked well enough for "all practical pur- 
poses — and Ifelt still better. 

"Being of no particular use down at Falmouth, they 
sent me up here, where I arrived the other day. The 
doctor down at Fredericksburg botched my fractures, 
and between jolting about and one thing and another, I 
must have the arm taken off now ; but, as my leg is nearly 
well, I shall be about again, almost as good as new, in a 
few days." 

The next morning, after inhaling ether, he was taken 
into the amputating room, where his arm was taken off 
three or four inches below the elbow, and dressed, when 
Surby was returned to his cot. The attendants said he 
was not out of bed over five minutes. 

Of course he got on finely, and in a few days he was 
walking around town to return the calls of friends who 
had visited him in the hospital. 

But what was he to do now ? His name did not appear 
on the rolls of the army ; he had never been mustered 
into the service ; in fact, the Government knew no such 
man as a soldier. Generals King, Hatch, and Doubleday, 
and a large number of officers besides, knew him, but 
only as a volunteer independent scout. They knew the 
deeds of valor, and the difficult and important services 



dahlgren's famous dash. 81 

he had performed — services whicTi if rendered by a private 
regularly mustered into the army would have early given 
him a commission. Now he was to leave the hospital, 
with one arm the less, no money in his pocket, and only 
the shoddiest style of clothes on his back, to get to his 
home the best 'way he could. 

He was certainly in a most anomalous position. But he 
had friends enough — more than he needed ; for he could 
make his own way. 

Some of his former commanders caused the facts to be 
made known to the War Department ; and everything 
that was right and proper was done, and with promptness^ 
fairness, and despatch. Surby was at once mustered into 
his regiment, to take effect from the day his company 
marched out of their native Bloomfield. This gave him. 
pay for the whole time, allowance for clothing he had 
never drawn, one hundred dollars bounty money, a new 
patent arm that looks just like its mate, an honorable 
discharge from the Army of the United States, and an 
annual pension, of ninety-six dollars for life. 



DAHLGEEN'S PAMOUS DASH. 

Gen. Burnside requested Gen. Sigel to make a cavalry 
reconnoissance of Fredericksburg. General Sigel se- 
lected his body-guard, commanded by Captain Dahlgren, 
with sixty men of the First Indiana cavalry and a portion 
of the Sixth Ohio. It was no light task to ride forty 
miles, keep the movement concealed from' the enemy, 
cross the river and dash through the town, especially as 
it was known the rebels occupied it in force ; it was an 
enterprise calculated to dampen the ardor of most men, 
but which was hailed almost as a holiday excursion by 
the Indianians. They left Gainesville in the morning, took 
a circuitous route, rode till night, rested awhile, and then, 
6 

K { 



82 dahlgren's famous dash. 

under the liglit of the full moon^ rode rapidly over the 
worn-out fields of the Old Dominion, through by-roads, 
intending to dash into the town at day -break. They 
arrived opposite the place at dawn, and found to their 
chagrin that one element in their calculation had been 
omitted — the tide. The bridge had been burned when 
we evacuated the place last summer, and they had nothing 
to^do but wait till the water ebbed. Concealing them- 
selves in the woods they waited impatiently. Meanwhile 
two of the Indianians rode along the river-bank below 
.-4,he town to the ferry. They hailed the ferryman who 
was on the opposite shore, representing themselves to be 
rebel officers. The ferryman pulled to the northern bank 
and was detained till he gave information of the rebel 
force,, which he said numbered eight companies — five or 
six hundred men all told. 

The tide ebbed and Captain Dahlgren left his hiding- 
place with the Indianians — sixty — leaving the Ohioans 
on the northern shore. They crossed the river in single 
file at a slow walk, the bottom being exceedingly rocky. 
Eeaching the opposite shore, he started at a slo\v trot 
toward the town, hoping to take the enemy*' by surprise. 
But his advance had been discovered. The enemy was 
partly in saddle. There was a hurrying to and fro — 
mounting of steeds — confusion and fright among the 
people. The rebel cavalry were in every street. Cap- 
tain Dahlgren resolved to fall upon them like a thunder- 
bolt. ■ Increasing his trot to a gallop, the sixty dauntless 
men dashed into town, cheering, with sabres glittering in 
the sun — riding recklessly upon the enemy, who waited 
but a moment in the main street, then ignominiously fled. 
Having cleared the main thoroughfare. Captain Dahl- 
gren swept through a cross-street upon another squadron 
with the same success. There was a trampling of hoofs, 
a clattering of scabbards, and the sharp ringing cut of 
the sabres, the pistol-flash — the going down of horsemen 



A FIGHTING PARSON. 83 

and rider — the gory gashes of the sabre-stroke — a cheer- 
ing and hurrahing, and screaming of frightened women 
and children — a short, sharp, decisive contest, and the 
town was in the possession of the gallant men. Once the 
rebels attempted to recover what they had lost, but a 
second impetuous charge drove them back again, and 
Captain Dahlgren gathered the fruits of the victory, 
thirty-one prisoners, horses, accoutrements, sabres — l^eld 
possession of the town for three hours, and retired, losing 
but one of his glorious band killed and two wounded, 
leaving a dozen of the enemy killed and wounded. The 
one brave fellow who lost his life had fought through all 
the conflict, but seeing a large rebel flag waving from a 
building, he secured it, wrapped it around his body, and 
was returning to his command, when a fatal shot was 
fired from a window, probably by a citizen. He was 
brought to the northern shore and there buried by his 
fellow- soldiers beneath the forest pines. Captain Carr, 
of company B, encountered a rebel officer and ran his 
sabre through the body of his enemy. Orderly Fitter 
had a hand-to-hand struggle with a rebel soldier, and, by 
a dexterous blow, struck him from his horse, inflicting 
a severe wound upon the head. He seized the fellow's 
horse — a splendid animal — his carbine and sabre. 

It thrills one to picture the encounter — the wild dash, 
the sweep like a whirlwind — the cheers — the rout of the 
enemy, their confusion — the victory ! This will go down 
to history as one of the bravest achievements on record. 



A PIGHTING PAESON. 

Colonel Granville Moody, of the Seventy-fourth Ohio, 
is a famous Methodist preacher from Cincinnati. He is 
something over fifty, six feet and two or three inches, of 
imposing presence, with a fine, genial face, and prodigious 
vocal range. The reverend colonel, who proved himself 



84 A FIGHTING PARSON. 

a fighting parson of the first water, was hit four times at 
the battle of Murfreesborough, and will carry the marks 
of battle when he goes back to the altar. His benevo- 
lence justifies his military flock in the indulgence of sly 
humor at his expense ; but he never permits them to 
disturb his equanimity. Several battle-anecdotes of him 
are well authenticated. Not long ago, General Negley 
merrily accused him of using heterodox expletives in the 
ardor of conflict. 

" Is it a fact, colonel," inquired the general, " that you 
told the boys to 'give 'em hell?' " 

"How?" replied the colonel, reproachfully; "that's 
some more of the boys' mischief. I told them to give 
the rebels * Hail Columbia ;' and they have perverted my 
language." 

The parson, however, had a sly twinkle in the corner 
of his eye, which left his hearers in considerable doubt. 

Our Western circuit-preachers are known as stentors. 
Where others are emphatic, they roar in the fervor of ex- 
hortation, especially when they come in with their huge 
" Amen." This fact must be borne in mind to appreciate 
the story. The colonel's mind was saturated with piety 
and fight. He had already had one bout with the rebels, 
and given them " Hail Columbia." They were renewing 
the attack. The colonel braced himself for the shock. 

Seeing his line in fine order, he thought he would ex- 
hort them briefly. The rebels were coming swiftly. 
Glancing first at the foe, then at the lads, he said, quietly, 
"Now, iny boys, fight for your country and your God," 
and, raising his voice to thunder-tones, he exclaimed, in 
the same breath, " Aim low !" 

Says one of the gallant fellows, "I thought for an in- 
stant it was a frenzied ejaculation from the profoundest 
depths of the ' Amen corner.' " Any day now you may 
hear the lads of the Seventy-fourth roaring, " Fight for 
your country and your God — aim low 1" 



TOO MUCH FOR HER. 85 



^ TAKnra rr coolly. 

An instance of endurance and patience occurred at the 
hospital on the right wing, during the fighting at Fort 
Donelson, Tenn. The Union columns having been forced 
back, the hospital, which was a little up from the road, 
had come within range of the rebels' fire, and was fast 
becoming an unpleasant position, but no damage was 
done to it. Just about th^s time a poor fellow came 
sauntering leisurely along, with the lower part of his arm 
dangling from the part above the elbow, it having been 
struck with a grape-shot. Meeting the surgeon in the 
house, who was busily attending to other wounded, he 
inquired how long it would be before he could attend to 
him, and was told in a few minutes. "All right," said 
the >\rounded man, and then walked outside and watched 
the progress of the battle for a short time, and then re- 
turned and waited the surgeon's opportunity to attend to 
him. The arm was amputated without a murmur from 
the unfortunate man. After the stump was bound up, 
the young man put his good hand into his pocket, and 
took out a piece of tobacco, from which he took a chew, 
then walking over to the fire, he leaned his well^rm against 
the mantle-piece, and rested his head against his arm, 
and kept squirting tobacco-juice into the fire, whilst his 
eyes were cast into the flames, all with the most astonish- 
ing composure, as though he was indulging in some 
pleasant reverie. He remained in this position for some 
time, and then walked off and went out of sight near 
where the fighting was going on. 



TOO MUCH rOE HEE. 

A forage-train went out of Nashville, Tenn., upon one 
occasion, and two or three of the Michigan soldiers 



86 A NAMELESS SPY. 

guarding it called at a house for dinner. The woman, 
ready to take their money and get their farvor, at once 
prepared it. While they were eating, she thought it a 
favorable moment for conversation, and propounded the 
usual question of Secessia : — 

" What in the world did all you people come down 
here to fight us for ?" 

"The fact is, madam," quickly answered one of her 
guests, dropping his knife and fork, leaning back in his 
chair and looking her calmly in the face, " we understood 
your folks were going to free all your negroes and send 
them up North, and we don't want them and won't have 
them. So we've come down here to put a stop to it." 

The old lady was silenced by this spiking of her guns. 



. A NAMELESS SPY. 

In 1862 there lived in the State of a Union man, 

wilh wife and children. He was a friend of the Union^ 
and an anti-slavery man upon principle. After the re- 
bellion broke out, and when the "Southern heart" had 
become fired, this man, living in a strong pro-slavery re- 
gion, and surrounded by opulent slaveholders, his own 
family connections, and those of his wife being also wealthy 
and bitter secessionists, very prudently held his peace, 
feeling his utter inability to stem the tide of the rebellion 
in his section. This reticence, together with his known 
Southern birth and relations, enabled him to pass unsus- 
pected, and almost unobserved, at a time when Brecken- 
ridge, Marshall, Preston, and Buckner, and other ardent 
politicians of Kentucky, chose the rebellion as their por- 
tion, and endeavored to carry with them the State amidst 
a blaze of excitement. Thus, without tacit admissions or 
any direct action upon his part, the gentleman of whom 
we write was classed by the people of his section as a 
secessionist. 



A nameless' SPY. 8T 

Circumstances occurred during that year by whicli this 
person was brought into contact with a Federal com- 
mander in Kentucky, General Nelson. Their meeting and 
acquaintance was accidental. Mutual Union sentiments 
begat personal sympathy and friendship. Nelson wished 
a certain service performed in the rebel territory, and he 
persuaded the citizen to undertake it — which the latter 
finally did as a matter of duty, we are assured, rather 
than of gain, for he made no charge for the service after 
its speedy and successful performance. Soon after, a sim- 
ilar work was necessary ; and again was the citizen im- 
portuned, and he again consented, but not considering 
himself as a professional spy. 

During this or a similar trip, and while at Chatta- 
nooga, our man heard of the sudden death of General 
Nelson. He was now at a loss what to do. Finally he 
determined to return and report his business to Major 
General Eosecrans, who had assumed command of the 
Federal army. Thus resolved, he proceeded to finish his 
mission. After ascertaining the position of military affairs 
at Chattanooga, he came to Murfreesborough, where 
Bragg's army was then collecting. Staying here several 
days, he was urged by his Southern army friends to act as 
their spy in Kentucky. The better to conceal his own feel- 
ings and position, he consented to do so, and he left General ■ 
Bragg's head-quarters to go to that State by way of Nash- 
ville, feigning important business, and from thence to go 
to his home, passing by and through Eosecran's army as 
it lay stretched out between Nashville and Louisville. 

The nameless man now makes his way to the Federal 
head-quarters, seeks a private interview with General 
Eosecrans, and states his case fully as we have just related. 
Here was something remarkable, surely — a spy in the con- 
fidence of the commanders of two great opposing armies ! 
Our general took much pains to satisfy himself of the 
honesty and soundness of the stranger. He was pleayed 
with the man's candid manner, and his story bore an air 



88 A NAMELESS SPY. 

of consistency and truth. Yet he was a Southerner, 
surrounded by rebellious influences, and enjoyed Bragg's 
confidence ; and what guarantee could be given that he 
was a Union man at heart ? None ; and our general, in 
great perplexity, held council with his Chief of Police, 
and requested the latter to " dig up" the case to its very 
root. This was done, but in what manner we need not 
specially state. Satisfied that it would do to trust the 
spy, to a certain extent at least, he was now sent on his 
way to perform his mission for Bragg. At all events, 
that scheming general so supposed, when our man's re- 
port was made at the rebel head-quarters a few days 
afterwards. His information was very acceptable to 
Bragg ; but we strongly question its value to rebeldom, 
as the spy reported only what he was told by that old fox 
Colonel Truesdail. 

Perhaps the reader will inquire, how can we answer 
for the report thus made to Bragg ? it may have been 
more true and valuable than we supposed. Well, there 
is. force in the query. We are fallen upon strange times, 
when honesty, virtue, and patriotism are at heavy dis- 
count in rebeldom, and the Indian's idea of the uncertainty 
of white men is by no means a myth. However, we were 
then quite confident of the worthlessness of the report of 
our spy to Bragg, because he had nothing else to tell him. 
Por five days did our spy keep himself locked in a private 
room in the police building at Nashville. His meals 
were carried to him by a trusty servant. His door was 
"shadowed" constantly by our best detectives, and so 
were his steps if he ventured upon the street for a few 
moments after dark. It was cold and bleaK winter weather, 
and he toasted himself before his comfortable fire, read 
books and papers, and conferred often with the Chief of 
Police and his assistant, affording them, strangers that 
they were to that region of country, a fund of valuable 
information respecting the rebels of Kentucky and Ten- 
nessee. He was a man of fine address and good Intel- 



A NAMELESS SPY. 89 

lectual attainments. When our man conclnded it was 
about time for his return to Bragg's army, he was po- 
litely escorted by our mounted police to a proper point 
beyond our lines, and by a route where he would see 
nothing of our forces. The reader will now appreciate 
the grounds of our confidence, we doubt not, in the worth - 
lessness at least of one of General Braxton Bragg's spy 
reports. 

Jn due time this nameless gentleman again enters our 
lines, and is escorted in by our pickets to the general 
commanding, to whom he reports in person concerning 
all that is transpiring in Bragg's army at Murfreesborough, 
and then he resumes his pleasant private quarters at the 
army police building. How little 'could the rebel Gen- 
eral Zollicoffer have thought or have imagined as the 
wildest dream, while building his elegant house in High 
Street, Nashville, that its gorgeous rooms should ever be 
devoted to such purposes! After a brief stay, another 
trip was made by our man to Bragg's head-quarters, we 
using the same precautions as previously. In fact, our 
spy desired, and even demanded such attention at the 
hands of the Chief of Police. Said he — 

" I am a stranger to you all. I can give you no guar- 
antee whatever of my good faith. It is alike due to you 
and to myself that I be allowed no opportunities for 
deceiving you." 

The report he carried to Bragg on his second trip de- 
lighted the latter. His officers talked with our man freely, 
apd, after staying at Murfreesborough two or three days 
and riding and walking all about in the most innocent 
and unconcerned manner, he was again sent back to 
Nashville to *'fool that slow Dutchman, Eosecrans," as 
one of the rebel officers remarked. Of the importance 
of the report now brought to the " slow Dutchman " we 
need not state further than that it contributed its due 
weight to a decision fraught with tremendous conse- 
quences to the army and to the country. Marching orders 



90 A NAMELESS SPY. 

were soon after issued for the advance of the Army of 
the Cumberland upon Murfreesborough. 

Now commenced a period of excessive labor and peril 
for the nameless spy. Generals Rosecrans and Bragg 
each wanted instant and constant information as the 
armies approached. The minutiae of this man's work for 
four or five days we need not stop to relate : it is easily 
imagined. Within that time he entered the rebel lines 
and returned three times. He gave the outline of Bragg's 
line of battle, a close estimate of his force, an accurate 
account of his artillery and his earthworks, the move- 
ments of the rebel wagon and railroad trains, &c. &c. 
He was very earnest in assuring Rosecrans that Bragg 
intended to give severe battle with superior numbers. 

This information proved true in all essentials, and its 
value to the country was inestimable. We had other 
spies piercing the rebel lines at this time, but they did 
not enjoy the facilities possessed by the nameless one. 
Almost with anguish did he exclaim against himself, in 
the presence of the author, for the severe manner in 
which he was deceiving the rebel general and involving 
the lives of his thousands of brave but deluded followers. 

After the first great battle the work of such a spy is 
ended, or, rather, it ceases when the shock of arms comes 
on. Thenceforth the armies are moved upon the instant, 
as circumstances may require. Our man, who during 
the four days had been almost incessantly in the saddle, 
or with his ears and eyes painfully observant while in 
the camps, took leave of our army upon the battle-field, 
and retired to a place of rest. 

One incident occurred during his last visit to Bragg 
which is worthy of mention. That general took alarm 
in consequence of his report, and at once started a special 
messenger to Gen. John H. Morgan — who was then absent 
with his cavalry in Kentucky to destroy Rosecrans' mil- 
road communications (in which Morgan succeeded) — to 
return instantly with his command by forced marches to 



A NAMELESS SPY. 91 

^urfreesborough. That same night our man reported 
this fact to the Federal commander, described the mes- 
senger and what route he would take, &c. The informa- 
tion was telegraphed at once to Nashville, Gallatin, and 
Bowling Green, and a force was sent from each of those 
posts to intercept the messenger. They failed to appre- 
hend him — which, however, proved of no consequence, 
as the battled of Stone Eiver were fought and Bragg was 
on his retreat from Murfreesborough by the time Morgan 
could have received the orders. 

Our spy was a brave man : yet during the last three 
days of his service he was most sensible of its peril. To 
pass between hostile lines in the lone hours of the night 
— for he did not wait for daylight — to be halted by guer- 
rillas and scouts and pickets, with guns aimed at him, 
and, finally, to meet and satisfy the anxious, keen-eyed, 
heart-searching rebel officers as well as our own, was a 
mental as well as physical demand that could not long 
be sustained. While proceeding upon his last expedi- 
tion, the author met the nameless one upon a by-road. 
"We halted our horses, drew near, and conversed a few 
seconds in private, while our attendants and companions 
moved on. He was greatly exhausted and soiled in 
appearance — his clothing having been rained upon and 
splashed by muddy water, caused by hard riding, and 
which had dried tipon him. He said he was about to 
try it once more, and, though he had been so often 
and so successfully, yet he feared detection and its sure 
result, the bullet or the halter. He had been unable, 
amid the hurry and excitement, to make some final dis- 
position of his affairs. He gave us a last message to 
send to his wife and children in case it became necessary ; 
and he also desired a promise-^most freely given — that 
we would attend to the settlement of his account with 
our general for services recently rendered. Thus con- 
cluding, he wrung our hand most earnestly, and putting 
spurs to his fresh and spirited animal, dashed off upon 



A DARING DEED. 



his mission. Twenty hours afterwards we were relieved 
of our anxious forebodings by his safe and successful 
return. The price paid him for his labors was well 
earned, and to our cause was a most profitable invest- 
ment. 



A DAEING DEED. 

Captain Spencer, aid to General Wool, received infor- 
mation from two ladies who went from Norfolk to Fort- 
ress Monroe with a flag of truce, that near midnight a 
six-oared boat was to leave Norfolk for Richmond with 
money for the payment of rebel soldiers'. He requested 
permission of Major-General Wool to attempt their cap- 
ture, and was told not to place too much confidence in 
the information received. Nevertheless, permission was 
given, and selecting two good oarsmen on whom he could 
rely, with their oars muffled, he started at dark and 
awaited the coming of the enemy's boat. He had pre- 
viously givBn direction to his men to pull directly for 
the boat, and on the moment of striking to " back water" 
instantly. 

About midnight the boat was heard approaching, and 
taking his station in the bows with a nine-inch shell in 
his hands, he gave the order to " give way." The moment 
his bows struck the rebel boat, he threw the shell into 
the middle of it, and was himself drawn back, luckily 
receiving no injury from the explosion. Not so the boat 
and occupants, however, the former of which was broken 
in two, and the latter were scattered in all directions in 
the water, not, however, before discharging their pistols 
at him, two balls going through his cap, and three per- 
forating his coat. 

The men were then told that if they submitted quietly 
they would be saved, otherwise he would leave them to 
their fate. They preferred the former, and arming him- 



THE IRISH SENTINEL. 93 

self witli "bis pistol in one hand, and a dirk (taken by him 
at the Battle of Bull Ean from a "secesh") in the other, 
he took them in his boat one by one, handcuffing them 
as they were pulled in. In addition to which, from the 
stern of the enemy's boat, which floated, he took eleyen 
hundred dollars in gold, and five thousand dollars in their 
worthless paper money. It was with some difficulty that 
he reached the Fort, the gunwale of the boat being almost 
leyel with -the water with its increased freiofht. 



WOULDN'T SELL. 

During the fighting at Fort Donelson a young man 
came strolling down to a transport, with one arm ampu- 
tated, and in the well hand holding three chickens which 
he had captured. A steward of one of the boats stepped 
up to him, and asked him if he wanted to sell the chickens. 
He looked at the chickens for a little while and replied, 
" Well, no ; I had so much trouble in catching the d — d 
things, I believe I'll eat 'em myself;" andotf he went 
with his fowl prisoners. 



THE lEISH SENTINEL. 

A son of the Green Isle, a member of Gillam's Mid- 
dle Tennessee Eegiment, while stationed at Nashville, 
was detailed on guard duty on a prominent street of that 
city. It was his first experience at guard mounting, and 
he strutted along his beat, apparently with a full appre- 
ciation of the dignity and importance of his position. 
As a citizen approached, he shouted — 

" Halt ! Who comes there ?" 

" A citizen," was the response. « . . " 

" Advance, citizen, and give the countersign.'^ . . 



94 THE HOLLOW-HEELED BOOT. 

'' I haven't the countersign ; and, if I had, the demand 
for it at this time and place is something very strange and 
tmusual," rejoined the citizen. 

" An' by the howly Moses, ye don't pass this way at 
all till ye say Banker Hill," was Pat's reply. 

The citizen, appreciating the "situation," advanced, 
and cautiously whispered in his ear the necessary words. 

"Eight ! Pass on." And the wide-awake sentinel re- 
sumed his beat. 



GOOD POK THE BELGIANS! 

A good story is told of an Illinois Colonel who was 
heard praising the Belgian musket. Says he — " In pla- 
toon firing with the Belgian musket, I can tell what I 
cannot with any other arm, and that is, how many pieces 
have been fired." ' 

" How can you tell that ?" 

" Oh ! I count the men on the ground. It never deceives 
me. It is ' fire and fall hack^ flat J'' 

One of these Belgian muskets will kick like a mule, 
and burst with the greatest facility. Several soldiers 
have been killed in this way. The bayonet too is a no- 
velty — a soft iron affair, apparently designed to coil round 
the enemy as it is introduced, thus taking him prisoner. 



THE HOLLOW-HEELED BOOT. 

In the earlier days of the rebellion there lived in South- 
eastern Missouri one Ogilvie Byron Young. He was a 
wild, graceless scamp, rich in the blood of his ancestors, 
but poor in purse. To the pride of Lucifer he added the 
courage of Falstaflf and the honor of" lago. A scion of 
Virginia's aristocracy, he deemed himself a statesman 
from birth and an orator by nature. Showy in manner 



THE HOLLOW-HEELED BOOT. 95 

and superficial in attainments, he could act the accom- 
plished gentleman or the bullying braggart as best suited 
the occasion. Yain, reckless, and boastful, he was scorned 
as a visionary enthusiast by some, feared as a bold, bad 
man by others, but admired as a genuine Southern cava- 
lier of the old school by those who knew him least. 
Wildly imaginative, but immensely unpractical, he 
plunged madly into the first waves of rebellion, and, 
while Sterling Price was yet a Union general and Clai- 
borne F. Jackson a loyal Governor, dared to avow and 
advocate opinions of the most ultra- Southern character. 
Fine-drawn theoretical arguments on the right and duty 
of secession were spread before the people of the State, 
in column after column of letters published in newspapers 
and to which was attached the full signature, " Ogilvie 
Byron Young." The rough back- woodsmen of his county 
were momentarily swayed by his presumptuous clamor, 
and he was sent to the first Missouri State Convention. 
Here he was the only member that took strong ground 
in favor of secession ]jer se, gaining thereby not a little 
notoriety. The State did not secede ; but Ogilvie Byron 
Young did, and for some months he was not so much as 
heard from. 

In the fall of 1861 he was arrested at the Spencer 
House, Cincinnati, as a spy. In due time an indictment 
and trial followed ; but, though there was abundant evi- 
dence of guilt, he escaped conviction by means of some 
technical informality in the proceedings. He was ordered 
to leave the city, however, and did so. In the following 
spring he was found in Covington, Kentucky, under an 
assumed name, aiding and abetting the rebels by furnish- 
ing information, and was again arrested. He had been 
cautioned by some one, it would seem; for there was 
found nothing upon him in the way of papers or letters 
to warrant his detention, and he was again released to 
again disappear from sight for some months. 

In November, 1862, he is again met with, in Nashville, 



96 THE HOLLOW-HEELED BOOT. 

where lie had been for some weeks as a paroled prisoner, 
but acting all the Avhile in his old capacity of smuggler 
and spy. In this business he seems to have had remark- 
able success, until his career was fortunately arrested by 
a combination of circumstances and the watchful shrewd- 
ness of the army police. About the last of that month 
Young was introduced to a gentleman who represented 
himself as a hostage for the return of certain loyal Missis- 
sippians captured at luka and treated by Price as traitors, 
contrary to the terms of the cartel between the Federal 
and Confederate Governments. At first he was shy and 
suspicious, but was finally convinced that his new 
acquaintance was really what he purported to be, and 
heartily entered into all his plans for the advancement 
of the Confederate cause. As his confidence grew stronger, 
he remarked that he had been of more benefit to the 
South, as a spy, than any brigade of rebel soldiers. He 
had encouraged desertions in the Federal camps, and made 
out paroles in the names of Morgan and Kirby Smith. 
The business was getting a little dangerous now, however, 
and he should get beyond the lines as soon as possible. 
He would have gone long ago, only that he had expected 
to be saved the trouble and expense of the trip by the 
fall of INTashville. 

Our luka hostage then informed him that Mrs. Major 
Eanney — wife of Major Kanney, of the 6th Texas Eegi- 
ment — was in the city, under his charge, and just returned 
from Europe, whither -she had been on diplomatic busi- 
ness for the Confederate Government. She had in her 
possession very important despatches, and was anxious 
to get safely through the lines with them. . Young said, 
in reply, that he would bring his influence to bear upon 
the army officials in her favor, but ill case she should be 
searched it would be well to provide for such a contin- 
gency. There was, he said, in the city a man by the 
name of Thompson, ostensibly a citizen, but really a rebel 
lieutenant in Bragg's army, and now acting as a spy. 



THE HOLLOW-HEELED BOOT. 9T 

He had made the trip throngli the lines ten or twelve ' 
times, and could do it again. He was now engaged in 
drawing a map of the fortifications around Nashville and 
procuring information as to the numbers of the troops, 
&c., which should be forthcoming in due season. These 
secret . despatches of Mrs. Ranney's together with this 
map and other papers, could be hidden in the heel of a 
boot, which would be made for them by a bootmaker of 
the city in the employ of the Confederate Government. 
His name was C. J. Zeutzschell, and his shop was on. 
Union Street. 

This plan was agreed to, and Young was to assist in 
the execution of it ; in return for which, he was to be 
placed in a high position at Richmond. Young's reputa- 
tion, however, was not of the best, and the bootmaker 
would do nothing for him, when called upon, without 
first making inquiries among his friends and consulting 
with our hostage, for whom the boots were wanted. 

Accordingly, Zeutzschell came to his room one evening 
and said that Young had been 'to his house and wished 
him to make a pair of boots and to secrete important 
documents in them so as to defy detection. He had no 
confidence in Young's honor, and did not wish to do it 
for him. He knew him as identified with the Confed- 
erates, indeed, but he was a bad man, low in his habits 
and associates, never had any money, &c. He (Zeutzschell) 
had been inquiring oi i\\Q friends of the South — undoubted 
secessionists — concerning him (our luka hostage), and 
w^as convinced that he was a gentleman and a true 
Southerner. He would do anything to promote the cause 
— money was no object — he would lay down his life for 
it. If Young could be thrown off the track, he would 
make the boots and secrete in them a map of the fortifi- 
cations about Nashville. His brother-in-law, Harris, 
would go out and see if any new ones had been erected. 
If not, he had a perfect plan of them in his" head, to prove 
which he immediately sat down and drafted one. He 
7 



98 • PRESENCE OP MIND. 

remarked that lie liad recently sent several sucli to 
General Morgan. He had made the boots for all the 
spies in the same way, and not one had ever been detected. 
He had sent valuable information in a common pipe. 

" Can you get a pass for your man ?" asked our hostage. 

" Certainly," was the reply ; " as many as you like. There 
is a German at head-quarters who steals blank passes for 
me, and I fill them up myself. I give him whiskey for 
them." 

He would like to go South too, he said, in conclusion. 
He could describe the fortifications so much better than 
in a map. 

Both parties being satisfied, an agreement for the boots 
was made. Zeutzschell was to get the exact distances 
of the defences, the number and disposition of the troops, 
&c., and secrete them, together with Mrs. Ranney's 
despatches, in the heel of one of the boots. This he did, 
according to promise : the boots were made and delivered 
on the evening appointed. Instead of reaching Generals 
Bragg and Morgan, as intended, however, the maps, 
papers, boots, owner, maker, and spy, suddenly found 
themselves in the hands of the army police, much to the 
astonishment and chagrin of all parties concerned. Zeutz- 
schell and Young were sent to the military prison at 
Alton. 



PEESENOE OP MnTD. 

The account given by Capt. Strong, of the Second Wis- 
consin Regiment, of his escape from rebel captors, will 
be read with interest. It is as follows : — 

As I was passing through a thicket, I was surrounded 
by six rebel soldiers — four infantry and two cavalry. The 
footmen were poorly dressed and badly armed, having 
old rusty altered muskets. The cavalry were well 
mounted and well armed. 



PRESENCE OP MIND. 99 

Seeing I was caught, I tTaonght it best to surrender at 
once. So I said — " Gentlemen, jou have me." 

I was asked various questions as to who I was, where 
I was going, what regiment I belonged to, &c., all of 
which I refused to answer. 

One of the footmen said — " Let's hang the d — d Yankee 
scoundrel," and pointed to a convenient limb. 

Another said, "No, let's take him to camp and hang 
him there." 

One of the cavalry, who seemed to be the leader, said, 
"We will take him to camp." 

They then marched me through an open place — two 
footmen in front/ two in the rear, and a cavalry man on 
each side of me. I was armed with two revolvers and 
my sword. After going some twenty rods, the sergeant, 
who was on my right, noticing my pistols, commanded 
me to halt and give them up, together with my sword. 

I said, "Certainly, gentlemen," and immediately halted. 
As I stopped, they all filed past me, and, of course were 
in front. 

We were at this time in an open part of the woods, 
but about sixty yards to the rear was a thicket of under- 
growth. Thus everything was in my favor. I was quick 
of foot and a passable shot. Yet the design of escape 
was not formed until I brought my pistol pouches to the 
front part of my body, and my hands touched the stocks. 
The grasping of the pistols suggested my cocking them 
as I drew them out. This I did, and the moment I got 
command of them I shot down the two footmen nearest 
me — about six feet off — one with each hand. I immedi- 
ately turned and ran •toward the thicket in the rear. 

The confusion of my captors was apparently so great 
that I had nearly reached cover before shots were fired 
at me. One ball passed through my left cheek, passing 
out of my mouth. Another one — a musket ball — went 
through my canteen. 

Immediately upon this volley, the two cavalry sepa- 



100 AN INGENIOUS DODGE. 

rated, one to mj right, and the pther to my left, to cut 
off my retreat — the remaining two footmen charging 
directly toward me. I turned when the horsemen got 
np, and fired three or four shots ; but the balls flew wild. 
I still ran on — got over a Small knoll, and had nearly 
regained one of our pickets, when I was headed off by 
both of the mounted men. 



AN INGENIOUS DODGE. 

Upon one occasion, when Eosecrans had " shut down" 
upon passes for officers' and soldiers' wives, a member of 
the former class telegraphed from Louisville to General 
Garfield, Chief of Staff', that her husband, an artillery 
officer, was very sick— perhaps dying — and that she must 
see him, and requested the general to authorize the issuing 
to her of a pass to Murfreesborough. The general's heart 
was touched ; but knowing nothing of the matter, he re- 
ferred it to Col. Barnett, Chief of Artillery. The colonel, 
too, sympathized with the distressed wife, and kindly 
sent an orderly out to the husband's battery to inquire 
into his condition, that the devoted wife might be advised 
thereof. Speedily the husband himself came in, with as- 
tonishment depicted in his face. Something's the matter, 
somewhere or somehow, he doesn't exactly know what. 

" How do you do ?" asks the artillery chief. 

"First-rate, sir." 

" Where have you been of late?'* 

" At my battery — on duty." 

" Have you not been sick lately ?" 

" No, indeed I Never had better health in my life." 

" Quite sure of it, are you ?" 

" Of course I am." 

" You have been on duty all the time ? Haven't you 
been absent from your command at all ?" . 

" Not a day." 



''OLD GAP," OF TENNESSEE. 101 

" Perfectly well now— no consumption, liver-complaint, 
fever, spleen, or Tennessee quickstep ? eh ?" 

" Certainly not. Why do you ask ?" 

In reply to this query the telegram of his anxious wife 
was handed to him. He read it, looked down and pon- 
dered for a moment in silent wonder at the ingenuity of 
woman, then called for a bottle of wine, and a general 
"smile" circulated among the bystanders. The loving 
wife was informed by telegraph that her husband was 
in no danger — in fact, was doing remarkably well. Thus 
she was circumvented for a time. Yet to " vindicate the 
truth of history," we must add that she gained her point 
in some other way — what Yankee wife will not ? — and 
made her visit successfully. 



"OLD GAP," OF TEOTESSEE. 

We are just below the Virginia State line in Eastern 
Tennessee, exactly where the two States touch like a pair 
of wedges, each pressing against the other. 

The 'time is early March, and the party, seven hardy, 
hard-fisted, and partially armed men, seated about a camp 
fire. 

There is nothing marked in the faces or persons of six 
of the party, but the seventh is a human speciality and 
will bear description. 

•John Davis stood '^ six foot four without boots," accord- 
ing to his own declaration. At the time of our notice, 
not less than seventy winters had passed over his head, 
whitening his hair and bending his form somewhat, but 
putting no dimness in his eye, nor yet taking any strength 
from hif hand. The Mher .of John Davis had been one 
of the early emigrants from North Carolina, and in the 
very heart of the wilderness of East Tennessee the boy 
had been, cradled and reached maturity. It was the boast 
of John that his father was the first white man that had 



102 "OLD GAP," OP TENNESSEE. 

passed througli Cumberland Gap, and so firmly did the 
old woodsman look upon this as a distinction, that when 
the title of " Cumberland Gap " was bestowed upon him 
and used instead of his own name, John felt honored in 
the bestowal. In time this became shortened to " Gap," 
and in further time, when age crept. on, "Old Gap" was 
as well known through all the section as the spot from 
whence the sobriquet was derived. 

. " A-a-a-ow I" stretched one of the men with a long yawn. 
" The boys are a long time comin' in. Beckon they must 
be pickin' up suthin'." 

" D'know what they kin pick up out o' that God-for- 
saken place," responded another. 

" Wish to thunder they'd pick up a little whiskey," 
was the sullen remark of a third, " my throat's as dry as 
stubble for a drink, an nuthin' but water." 

" What did Gord. Hopper say to you. Smith ?" asked 
the old man of the one who spoke last. 

" Say ! why he said if we'd lay over for to-day in this 
'ere hollow, he'd be in afore night and fetch us what we 
wanted. Now I d'know whether he reckons on what we 
want or no, but if he fetches all I want he'll be right 
smart." 

"Did he say he'd fetch down any more of the boys?" 
was the old man's question. 

" Yes, s-i-r, that's the main pint. He's gwine to bring 
down all the boys to Jonesville that'll come, and maybe 
some that'll* not come, too." 

The old man made no response to this, only to look 
long and earnestly at the speaker, as though to solve the 
meaning of every word \ttered. He turned quickly to 
the other men and spoke — 

" Wal, boys, if I'm to be captain, then I say that we'll 
get out of this at daylight to-morrow morning, no matter 
whether Gord. Hopper comes or no. Is that so, boys?" 

A hearty " Yes," from all hands told the old man that 
he had spoken according to their wishes, when at the very 



"OLD GAP," OF TENNESSEE. 103 

momeiit of utterance a long shout was heard from the 
distance, and every man was on his feet in an instant. 

" That's Gord. Hopper's voice," said one of the party. 

"Gord. Hopper be blowed," answered another, 

"he never opened his jaws as naturally as that since he 
was born." 

" You Jake," said the old man, " run up to the edge o' 
the hill and see if ye kin look down t'wards the river. 
If all's right come back ; if thar's anything wrong, shoot 
off yer iron an' run down towards Clinton, and we'll jine 
ye afore ye get thar." 

The man was away in a moment, while the rest of the 
party listened earnestly. In a very few minutes Jake 
was seen coming back swinging his rifle lazily and 
whistling. 

" Gord. Hopper %nd some other fellers, and a woman," 
was his answer to the inquiring looks, as he took his seat 
by the camp fire. 

" A woman !" was Old Gap's questioning exclamation 
as he turned in the direction the party was coming ; but 
before there was an explanation they were seen winding 
around the hill, and in a moment more were in camp. 
They were six — five men and a woman— the last mounted 
on a sorry jade of a horse, and sharing the room upon 
his back with a well-filled bag, slung pannier-fashion with 
a 10-gallon keg. The old man stood aloof as the party 
filed in, and, leaning on his rifle, listened with a lowering 
brow to the greetings and jibes that passed between his 
men and the new-comers. * 

" Why Gord.," said he whom we have called Smith, 
''what in thunder did you want to fetch Jim Blunt's 
da'ter along for ? Couldn't ye go down to Dixie for a 
spell without yer gal ? An' that 'ere suckin' brother of 
hers, too ; ye c^n't make Secesh o' him — anyhow, tain't 
in the blood. The old man's half abolitioner, an' I guess 
the gal an' boy ain't much better." 

*' That's none o' your business," drawled out Hopper, 



104 "old GAP," OF TENNESSEE. 

sullenly ; " I brought 'em along because I want to keep 
'em* under my eye. I ain't listed yet, Zack Smith, an' 
I don't mean to let anybody tell m*e what to do until I 
have." 

" Wal, there now, there's no use getting mad 'bout it; 
but you see, Gord., everybody knows that you've been 
sweet on Jim B'lunt's gal a long while, an' if you've taken 
her off now without her will — an' I reckon you have by 
the looks of her face— there's going to be tight work of 
it. The old man ain't going to give it up so; an' if I 
reckon right, there's 'Bimelech Purdy she's engaged to, 
an' he's some too." 

"D — n 'Bimelech Purdy; Pll spurt my knife 'cross 
her wizen afore ever he shall have her." 

" Wal, I've said my say, an' all I've got to say besides 
is this : I don't believe our fellers reckon on fightin' any 
about a woman. They're goin' out to fight for the South, 
and don't want any private qu'erls on hand." 

^' Wal, all I've got to say is this — that if you don't want 
to fight for me, Zack Smith, you can go to " 

" Whew ! hold yer horses, Grord. Pon't let's come to 
it rash. There's time enough yet." 

This ended the colloquy, and both parties turned away 
with a mutual look of disgust. The girl still sat upon 
the horse, looking around inquiringly from face to face, 
as though trying to spell out friends from foes. The 
brother had not yet'released his hold upon the bridle, but 
stood as though in momentary expectation of an order to 
go forward. 

Hopper moved, after his conversation with Smith, direct 
to the spot where sat Ellen Blunt. She had watched his 
talk with Smith, and knew both that she was the subject 
of it and that there had been a disagreement. 

A ray of hope shot across her heart, as she thought 
that perhaps even among those who were supposed to bo 
working in concert with him, all were . not the friends of 
the man who had brouo-ht her there. A bitter look of 



105 

Hatred covered her pretty face as lie offered his hand and 
said — 

" Come, Hattie, light down !" 

"For what?" 

" For what ! why, for rest and supper, to be sure. Your 
journey's ended for to-day."' 

"See here, Gordon Hopper, perhaps you don't kftow 
what you've been doing. If so, I count it my duty to 
tell you. There maybe no law for Old Virginia now, 
but the day will come when you'll be afraid to put your 
foot back on her soil for the work you've done this day." 

" Oh come ! light down, Hattie, and don't talk. There's 
no law here, you know. I wan't agoing to leave Jones- 
ville without you. P'haps some o' those Yankee sogers 
that'll be swarming in thar soon might have carried you 
off, anyhow." 

"Yes, and I'd rather be carried off or butchered by 
those same Yankees, that you are so fond of talking about, 
ten times over, than to be ten minutes in the presence of a 
traitor aud a rebel," and the girl's dark eyes flashed de- 
fiantly on the men that stood loitering around. 

" Haven't you got your brother with you ?" resumed 
Hopper ; " what do you want more'n that ? Wait a bit, 
an' he'll make just as good a Confederate soger as the 
best of 'em." 

" Never !" shouted the boy. " That's a lie, Gord. Hopper, 
and you know it. You can take my heart's blood, but 
you'll nevei; make me fight for your cursed Stars and 
Bars. Hurrah for the Stars and Stripes !" 

A 'laugh went up from the men at the vehemence of 
the boy, and at this moment Old Gap came to the side of 
the girl. 

" Come, gal, you'll have to light down for the time, any- 
how. We must make the best of a bad bargain. I know 
your father, an' I won't let any harm come to ye, if I can 
help it, an' I reckon I km help it," he. said, turning with 
a menacing look to Hopper. 



106 "old GAP," OF TENNESSEE. 

The girl put her hand in the old man's, and sprang to 
the ground, saying as she did so — 

" I know you. Gap, and if my father ain't mistaken in 
you, I shall never meet harm at your hands, but I don't 
see how an honest man like yourself came to be mixed 
up with this set." 

" Wal, ye see, gal, we can't all think alike. Now if it 
so be as yer father b'lieves in the North an' the Aboli- 
tioners, an' I don't, that ain't agoin' to make either on us 
any wuss, is it? " 

" You are all misled through your own ignorance, and 
are going to fight for a bad cause, and more than that, 
you'll all be whipped, too." 

The men all stood around in silence, gazing upon the 
girl, whose beauty added to her words of fire kept them 
spellbound. She knew it, and determined to improve 
the opportunity. 

" Do you call yourselves meti, and lend your aid to drag 
a woman from her home, for no other end than to help a 
wretch like Gord. Hopper ? I tell you, every one, as I 
have told him, that you can drag me over the face of the 
earth, and treat me worse than ever woman was treated 
before, and yet I shall say as I do now, I'll never marry 
Gordon Hopper or desert my faith in the flag." 

A shout of admiration went up from the men, all but- 
Hopper, who stood ^scowling furiously on the whole scene. 
Once more spoke Old Gap — 

" Wal, gal, I think ye'll have to mess with me to-night, 
and in the morning we'll see what kin be done. Now 
then, will you or Gap be cook ?" 

Like a tiger just unbound sprang Gordon Hopper into 
the midst of the little circle. 

" Look'ee here, boys, I want to know at won'st who's 
captain of this gang. If that old man is, don't count me 
in. I've stood it long enough. You've all taken your 
jaw about it, and listened to what that girl has to say ; now 
you kin hear me. To-morrow mornin' I'm goin' on 



"old GAP," OP TENNESSEE. lOT 

t'wards ISTasliville, and I'm goin' to carry that gal with me, 
an' I'm d— d if I wouldn't like to see the man that's goin' 
to stop me." 

Old Gap had seated himself on a log when he had in- 
vited Hattie Blunt to be cook, and had listened to this 
harangue from his seat. When it ended, and the threat 
was uttered, the old man was on his feet in an instant. 
• There was no stoop in his back now. His brown, long 
hand went straight to the long hunting-knife in his belt, 
and his lips closed firmly for an instant before he spoke — 

" I'm the man, stranger ! I'm the man that says that 
gal '11 never go to Nashville with you without her bein' 
willin'. As to who's captain of this gang, I don't care a 
continental d — n ; that's for the boys to say._ But I've got 
da'ters myself, and they've got da'ters of their own, an' 
I don't mean to let anything happen to Jim Blunt's gal 
but what's right." 

Hopper looked around upon the faces about him, but 
the expression did not satisfy him, and from them to that 
of the old man, which had by no means a pleasing look. 
His fingers had been playing nervously with the hammer 
of his rifle, but gradually they closed over it, and his 
eyes dropped. 

" Oh, put away yer shootin-iron, boy. The time hasn't 
come yet for you to think of shootin' Old Gap. Wait 
till ye ^git into a skrimmage where ye kin do it safe, be- 
cause we're both fightin' on the same side. Then I 
wouldn't trust ye a bit." 

Hopper bit his lip, looked up with a sudden glance of 
fire, and then turned away and walked into the wood. 

Hattie had been busy du?:'iug these last words, assisted 
by her brother, in preparing the evening meal, and at 
the same time paying close attention to all that was said. 
The old man cast a sudden glance upon the dozen faces 
that stood about the camp-fire, and from them to the 
girl who was bending over its blaze. There was some- 
thing in the look of Old Gap. that spoke command, and 



108 "OLD GAP," OP TENNESSEE. 

as quickly as he glanced around tlie old man knew that 
his earnestness had taken its proper effect, and that he 
could depend upon the men to aid him in the promise he 
had given before Ilattie to defend her. 

" Who was along with Gord. Hopper when he took this 
gal and boy ?" was his question. 

Three of the party answered. 

" Yer a nice set o' boys," said the old man, with a sneer. 
" Ye might better been at' suthin else. You've let Gord. 
Hopper use you to do what, maybe, may bring ye into 
trouble, allowin' ye should ever want to go back to Jones- 
ville." 

The three men hung their heads under the rebuke, and 
soon followed the example of their leader by sneaking 
off and hanging about the skirts of the party. 

The supper was served as only the hands of a woman 
could have served it with the rough culinary conve- 
niences of the woodmen, and the party settled for the' 
night's rest. It was Old Gap's turn now to play the gal- 
lant, for Hattie Blunt refused the offered attentions of the 
rest. The old man gathered and made the girl a bed of 
dried leaves, on the leeward side of a great log, and his 
blanket, in spite of all her assurances that she did not 
need it, was the one that covered her during sleep. The 
old man had been living the life of a hunter both of 
" bar" and " Ingin" too long not to know the importance 
of sleeping with, one eye open, and of such a nature were 
his slumbers this night. Once or twice the old fellow 
raised himself stealthily to a sitting posture, grasped his 
rifle, and peered out into the darkness, and then, counting 
the sleeping figures in the group, he would settle un- 
easily down into his place. 

With the breaking of dawn in the east every one 
sprang to their feet, each feeling that the next hour was 
fraught with action. 

Gord. Hopper had declared that he was going to Nash- 
ville, and that he should take Hattie Blunt and her 



"OLD GAP," or TENNESSEE. 109 

brother witli him, while Old Gap had as emphatically 
declared that the girl should not go a step without her 
own consent. The coming struggle between the two, for 
struggle it certainly was to be, whether of words or 
blows, and the uncertainty as to the sympathies of the 
men for one side or the other, sat uneasily on the faces 
of all, but especially on those of Ilattie and her brother. 

The breakfast was despatched in silence, and scarce 
swallowed when the old man came to his feet with a quick 
movement that meant work. 

" ISTow, then, boys; for the march ! Whoever's goin' 
through the Gap t'wards ISTashville, pick up yer traps. 
'Twon't pay to wait yere till some of these Yankees sweep 
down on us and send us up North to spend the summer 
in prison barracks. You, George Blunt, pick up your 
traps and take yer sister back to Jonesville, and mind ye 
don't say one word more'n ye kiH help 'bout this scrape, 
d'ye hear ?" 

Once more the fingers of Gord. Hopper played uneasily 
with the hammer of his rifle as he stepped up to the centre 
of the circle. 

" Look'ee here, old man," he said, fixing his eye steadily 
in that of Gap's, "I told ye last night enough to keep ye 
from meddling with my business^ D'ye think I'm a child 
that ye should play with me ? I tell ye again what I told 
ye then. I'm goin' on to Nashville, and I'm goin' to take 
that gal and her brother with me." 

Ending this sentence he gave a spring backward, 
bringing his rifle to his shoulder as he did so, and then 
finished with — 

" And now let me see the man that's going to prevent 
me." 

" Here he is !" shouted a stalwart figure, breaking with 
a bound through the bush by his side, and followed by 
a dozen others, sending with one blow of his fist Gord. 
Hopper one way and his rifle another, " Here's the man 
that gives jou. the lie, you villain ! Here's the man that's 



110 "OLD GAP," OP TENNESSEE. 

going to prevent you, and mark it on your carcass, too. 
And you, too, what kind of men are ye to let suchlscum 
as that abuse an old man and ill treat a woman in your 
presence ? D'ye call yourselves men, eh ?" 

" Hold hard, Bim. Purdy, don't abnse the boys for what 
they couldn't help. The boys hadn't a chance of 'spress- 
ing a 'pinion on the matter when you brushed in." 

*• Oh, I know all about it. This ain't the first time 
I've been about ye. I tracked 'em down here last night, 
and found you too many for us, and I sent over to Taze- 
well for these boys. I was around you last night when 
you sat up with your rifle cocked looking for the steps 
in the bush. , And now. what's all this party about? I 
wouldn't ask. Gap, but that I see you among them, and 
as I have never yet heard that you have been engaged in 
anything dishonest, I can't believe that the men are rebels 
and traitors." 

" Hold hard, 'Bimelech Purdy, both sides can say that. 
Maybe they might call you a rebel and a traitor for 
fightin' on the side of the North." 

"Tm not fightin' on the side of the North. I'm fight- 
ing for both sides. I'm fighting to save the South from 
the consequences of her own doing." 

This seemed a new idea to the old man, and he stopped 
to consider it. Purdy saw his advantage and followed 
it up. 

" Have you ever thought, Gap, of what a terrible thing 
it would be should the South succeed in her evil doings, 
and if all the old things that you've been taught to love 
should be swept away ? New laws, new customs, a new 
flag, and new terms for old things. Do you ever think 
of this, and think that you're an old man, with not long 
to live." 

" Sartainly, sartainly ! We must expect changes. Life 
is nothin' but changes, 'Bimelech !" 

" Aye ; but why not changes for the better rather than 



" OLD GAP," OF TENNESSEE. Ill 

the worse ? You wouldn't change your rifle for one that 
couldn't do the same work, would ye, Gap ?" 

" Sartainly not !" 

"And then, again, did ye never think ye might be 
beaten. Think of the disgrace of that — a whipped trai- 
tor, a fugitive, fearful to return to his home, to die on 
the spot where he was born and nurtured !" 

The old man leaned his chin heavily on the muzzle of 
his rifle and seemed for a moment lost in thought. At 
last he looked up and about the circle, and from them to 
the spot where stood Purdy, surrounded by his friends 
and Hattie Blunt clinging to his side. The old man 
seemed puzzled and waiting for some one to speak. There 
was a dead silence which he broke with — 

" D'ye hear that, boys ? I believe its Gospel truth ; I 
reckon there's been some mistake in this consarn. I 
didn't mind for goin' in for a bit of a scrimmage ; but if 
it's comin' to that there — goin' to tear up all the old fixins 
— then all I've got to say is, Gap isn't one of 'em." 

A hearty shout went up from both parties, and Purdy 
sprang forward to grasp the hand of the old man and 
shake it heartily. 

" I was,sure," he said, " that old Cumberland Gap would 
never prove false to friend or country. And now, then, 
boys, who says for Jonesville instead of Nashville? 
There'll soon be work enough for ye to do there." 

Another shout from the whole party, and in a few 
minutes the men who, but an hour before, were ready to 
be led to overt treason, were on their march northward. 

"What's come of Gord. Hopper?" asked one of the 
men, picking up his rifle that had been thrown down by 
Purdy's blow, and looking inquiringly around. 

" Oh, no matter !" was the response ; " let him go an' 
jine the Confederate army — that'll be punishment enough 
for him. March on, boys ! Three cheers for Old Gap I" 



m 



112 - GOING THE WHOLE HOG. 



GOING THE WHOLE HOG. 



Early one morning in 1862, while at Farmington, near 
Corinth, Mississippi, as Brigadier (now Major) General 
Palmer was riding along his lines to inspect some breast- 
works that had been thrown up during the previous 
night, he came suddenly upon some of the boys of Co. I, 
27th Illinois Volunteers, who had just shot a two-hundred- 
pound hog, and were engaged in the interesting process 
of skinning it. The soldiers were startled ; their chief 
looked astonished and sorrowful. 

"Ah! a body — a corpse. Some poor fellow gone to 
his last home. Well, he must be buried with military 
honors. Sergeant, call the officer of the guard." 

The officer was speedily at hand, and received orders 
.to have a grave dug and the body buried forthwith. The 
grave was soon prepared, and then the company were 
mustered. Pall-bearers placed the body of the dead 
upon a stretcher. The order was given to march, and, with 
reversed arms and funeral tread, the solemn procession, 
of sixty men followed the body to the grave. Not a 
word passed nor a muscle of the face stirred while the 
last rites of sepulture were being performed. The cere- 
mony over, the general and his staff waved their adieuXf 
and were soon lost in the distance.. 

The philosophy of the soldier is usually equal to the 
emergency. He has read and pondered. He now pain- 
fully realizes that flesh is as grass, and that life is but a 
shadow. But he thinks of t\\Q resurrection, and his gloom 
passes away. So with the philosophic boys of Company 
I, 27th Illinois. Ere their general was fairly seated at 
his own breakfast-table, there was a raising of the dead, 
and savory pork-steaks were frying in many a camp-pan. 



blDN'T LIKE IT. 113 



DIDWT LIKE IT. 



During the month of March, 1863, an extensive forag- 
ing and reconnoitring expedition, comprising several 
hundred men and teams of Major-General Eeynolds's di- 
vision, went out from Murfreesborough towards Lebanon, 
through a fertile and well-stocked country, the people of 
which were mainly intensely rebel. The expedition was 
very successful, bringing back corn, fodder, poultry, pigs, 
and cattle innumerable — also some four hundred head of 
horses and mules, to aid in mounting Colonel Wilder's 
infantry brigade. 

While out upon this expedition, the train came to the 
premises of an active, wealthy, bitter old rebel — one who 
had made himself very busy in procuring volunteers fo^ 
the rebel array, and particularly obnoxious to his Union 
neisfhbors bv assistinor the rebel aojents to hunt down 
conscripts. He looked rather astonished when our ad- 
vance cavalry was followed off by his horses. The quar- 
termaster came next, with his mules and the contents of 
his corn -cribs. When the commissary marched by in 
charge of the gentleman's extra-fat cattle, "secesh," in 
great alarm, wanted to know if we were not going to pay 
for his " goods." 

" We are not paying money at present to any one," 
blandly replied the quartermaster. 

" AVell, but you will gi.ve me a receipt for them ?" 

" Certainly, sir ; here are your vouchers already made 
out." 

" Secesh" read them, apparently well pleased, until he 
came to the inexorable words, " to be paid at the close of 
the war, upon proof of loyalty." 

*' Well, if that is the case," said he, " they may go to 
the d — l;"^and, turning to a couple of his darkies, who 
were looking on with open mouths, he administered to 



114 PRAYING FOR THE PRESIDENT. 

tliem a few vigorous kicks a joostenori, exclaiming, "D- — n 
jOM, you go too I" 



A PEAOTIOAL JOEE. 

The soldier in his best estate is full of fun. In a tent 
in the camp of the 11th Indiana Battery, near Murfrees- 
borough, in the absence of chairs, a rude bench had been 
constructed by placing a board upon cross-legs. The 
board was soon found too limber to bear up the crowd 
which daily enjoyed its comforts, and was, in conse- 
quence, strengthened by laying another thick plank over 
it. A roguish sergeant one day removed this top plank, 
bored a number of auger -holes nearly through the bot- 
tom board, filled them with powder, laid a train from one 
to another, prepared his fuse, and then' replaced the plank. 
Shortly after, the bench, as usual, was filled with his un- 
suspecting comrades, when he reached down and touched 
the fuse with his lighted cigar. Of course, there was an 
explosion just about that time, which hoisted the party as 
would a petard, upsetting the stove and tea-furniture, 
knocking down the tent, and enveloping all in smoke and 
dire confusion. 



PEATma roE the peesident. 

' In the summer of 1861, a private in one of the regi- 
ments of the Army of the Potomac was court-martialled 
for sleeping on his post out near Chain Bridge on the 
Upper Potomac. He was convicted; his sentence was 
death ; the finding was approved of by the General, and 
the day fixed for his execution. He was a youth of .more 
than ordinary intelligence ; he did not beg for pardon, 
but was willing to meet his fate. 

The time drew near ; the stern necessity of war required 



PRAYING FOR THE PRESIDENT: 



115 



that an example should be made of some one ; his was 
an aggravated case. But the case reached the ears of the 
President ; he resolved to save him ; he signed a pardon 
and sent it oat ; the day came. 

" Suppose," thought the President, " my pardon has not 
reached him." 

The telegraph was called into requisition ; an answer 
did not come promptly. 

" Bring up my carriage," he ordered. 

It came, and soon the important state papers were 
dropped, and through the hot, broiling sun and dusty 
roads he rode to the camp, about ten miles, and saw that 
the soldier was saved. 

He doubtless forgot the incident, but the soldier did 
not. When the Third Vermont charged upon the rifle- 
pits before Yorktown the following year the enemy 
poured a volley upon them. The first man who fell with 
six bullets in his body, was Wm. Scott, of company K. 
His comrades caught him up, and as his life blood ebbed 
away, he raised to heaven, amid the din of war, the cries 
of the dying, and the shouts of the enemy, a prayer for 
the President, and as he died he remarked to his comrade 
that he had shown he was no coward, and not afraid to die. 

He was interred in the presence of his regiment, in a 
little grove about two miles to the rear of the rebel fort, 
in the centre of a group of holly and vines ; a few cherry- 
trees, in full bloom, are scattered around the edge. In 
digging his grave, a skull and bones were found, and 
metal buttons, showing that the identical spot had been 
used in the Revolutionary war for our fathers who fell m 
the same cause. The chaplain narrated the circumstance 
to the boys who stood around with uncovered heads. 
He prayed fqr the President, and paid the most glowing 
tribute to his noble heart that we have ever heard. The 
tears started to their eyes as the clods of earth were thrown 
upon him in his narrow grave, where he lay shrouded in 
his coat and blanket. 



116 THE QUAKERS ON THE WAR-PATH. 

The men separated ; in a few minutes all were engaged 
in something around the camp, as though nothing had 
happened unusual ; but that scene will live upon their 
memories while life lasts ; the calm look of Scott's face, 
the seeming look of satisfaction he felt still lingered ; and 
could the President have seen him, he would have felt 
that his act of mercy had been wisely bestowed. 



THE QTJAXEES OIT THE WAB-PATH. 

This rebellion has disturbed the deepest fountains of 
the life of our people — both the good and the bad. It 
has agitated the serenest waters. Even the members of 
the Society of Friends have been among the bravest and 
best contributors to the war. In the field their gallant 
sons have done all the duties of citjzens as nobly as their 
fathers have performed them in the calmer scenes 'of 
domestic and civil life. 

At one of the regular meetings of the Society of Friends 
(Orthodox), a committee was proposed to be raised to 
inquire into and attend to the cases of young men, sons 
of members, who it was supposed had, in clear violation 
of all the standard rules of the Society, enlisted for mili- 
tary service in this dreadful war. It was notorious that 
a large number of this class had actually shouldered the 
musket and marched with their regiments ; and it was 
strongly suspected that many of these boys had actually 
received the warmest blessings of their demure but none 
the less heroic mothers, and the inspiring encouragement 
of gentle sisters, on their departure. 

Bat, as the case had been brought, up before the meet- 
ing by some .of the strictest Friends, it became necessary 
to give it the most serious consideration ; and the mem- 
bers of the committee were duly proposed. 

The first rose with great dignity, and, with that inimi- 
table serenity which always characterizes the proceedings 



THE scout's story. lit 

of the Orthodox Quakers, requested to be excused,- on the 
ground .that he could not conscientiously serve in that 
capacity, since, very much to his pain and sorrow, among 
the voung members who had enlisted for the war he had 
a son. 

Another member desired to be excused on the ground 
that, without his knowledge, two of his sons had not only 
joined the army, but were already in the field. 

Finally, the third member rose, and stood some moments 
without speaking. He was a venerable man : he looked 
like the patriarch of the solemn assembly. His hair was 
white, but his cheek looked " like a rose in the snow." 

"Friends, we in our weakness cannot foresee the pur- 
poses of the great Father of all things ; nor should we 
attempt to scrutinize his almighty designs. It becomes 
my duty to inform you all that my youngest son, two of 
my grandsons, and several of my nephews, have also taken 
up arms in the defence of our beloved country ; and I am 
very much afraid that I could not serve on the committee 
with any good to our cause." 

A reverent silence brooded over the assembly, and for 
a protracted interval the silence remained unbroken. At 
last the " mover of the motion" rose, and proposed that 
" the whole matter should be temporarily postponed." 



THE SOOUT'S STOKY. 

It was in the bleak mountain country of East Ten- 
nessee ; the evening was growing late, and the camp-fire 
was smouldering lower and lower, but we still sat round 
it, for the spell of the scout's marvellous gift of story-telling 
we were none of us willing to dissolve. Captain Charlie 
Leighton had been a lieutenant in a Michigan Battery at 
the commencement of the war, but a natural love of ex- 
citement and restlessness of soul had early prompted him 
to- seek employment as a scout, in which he soon rose to 



118 THE scout's story. 

1 - 

"Unusual eminence. He is a man of mucli refinement^ 
■well educated, and of a "quick inventive br^n." The 
"tale I am about to relate is my best recollection of it as 
it fell from his lips, and if there is aught of elegance in 
its diction, as here presented, it is all his own. He had 
l)een delighting us with incidents of the war, most of 
-which were derived from his own experience, when I 
expressed a desire to know something of his first attempt 
at scouting. He willingly assented, took a long pull at 
my brandy flask, and commenced his yarn ; and I thought 
that I had never seen a handsomer man than Charlie 
Leighton the scout, as he carelessly lounged there, with 
the ruddy gleams of the dying camp-fire occasionally flick- 
ering over his strongly marked intelligent face, and his 
curling black hair waving fitfully in the night wind, which 
now came down from the mountain fresher and chillier. 

It happened in Western Virginia, said he. I had been 
personally acquainted with our commander. General R., 
before the war commenced, and having intimated, a short 
time previous to the date of my story, that I desired to 
try my luck in the scouting service — of which a vast deal 
was required to counteract the guerrillas with which the 
Blue Ridge fairly teemed at that time — one night, late 
in the fall of the year, I was delighted to receive orders 
to report at his head-quarters. The general was a man 
of few words, and my instructions were brief. 

•" Listen," said he. " My only reliable scout (Mack worth) 
was killed last night at the lower ford ; and General F. 
(the rebel commander) has his head-quarters at the Sed- 
ley Mansion on the Romney road." . 

" Yery well," said I, beginning to feel a little queer. 

" I want you to go to the Sedley Mansion," was the 
cool rejoinder. 

" To go there ! Why, it's in the heart of the enemy's 
position !" was my amazed ejaculation. 

"Just the reason I want it done," resumed the general. 
" Listen : I attack to-morrow at day-break. F. knows it, 



THE scout's story. 119 

or half suspects it, and will mass either on the centre or 
the left wing. I must know which. The task is thick 
with danger — regular life and death. Two miles from here, 
midway to the enemy's outposts, and six paces beyond the 
second mile-stone, are two rockets propped on the inside 
of a hollow stump. Mackworth placed them there yes- 
terday. You are to slip to F.'s quarters to-night, learn 
what I want, and hurry back to the hollow stump. If 
he masses on the centre, let off one rocket ; if on the left, 
let off both. This duty, I repeat, abounds with danger. 
You must start immediately, and alone. Will you go ?" 

Everything considered, I think I voted in the affirm- 
ative pretty readily, but it required a slight struggle. 
Nevertheless, consent I did, and immediately left the tent 
to make ready. 

It was near ten o'clock when, having received a few 
additional words of advice from the chief, I set forth on 
my perilous ride. The country was quite familiar to me, 
so I had little fear of losing my way, which was no in- 
considerable advantage, I can tell you. Eiding slowly 
at first, as soon as I had passed our last outpost, I put 
spurs to my horse (a glorious gray thorough-bred which 
the general had lent me for the occasion) and fled down 
the mountain at a breakneck pace. It was a cool, misty, 
uncertain night — almost frosty, and the country was wild 
and desolate. Mountains and ravines were the ruling 
features, with now and then that diversification of the 
broomy, irregular plateau, with which our mountain 
scenery is occasionally softened. I continued my rapid 
pace with but little caution until I arrived at the further 
extremity of one of these plateaux. Here I brought up 
sharply beside a block of granite, which I recognized as 
the second mile-stone. Dismounting, I proceeded to the 
hollow stump which the general had intimated, and finding 
the rockets there, examined them well to make sure of their 
efficiency — remounted, and was away again. But now I 
exercised much more caution .in my movements. I rod© 



120 THE scout's story. 

more slowly, kept my horse on the turf at the edge of 
the road, in order to deaden the hoof-beats, and also short- 
ened the chain of my sabre, binding the scabbard with 
my knee to prevent its jingling. Still I was not satisfied, 
but tore my handkerchief in two, and made fast to either 
heel the rowel of my spurs, which otherwise had a little 
tinkle of their own. Then I kept wide awake, with my 
eyes everywhere at once, in the hope of catching a glimpse 
of some clew or landmark — the glimmer of a camp-fire — a 
tent-top in the moonlight, which now began to shine faintly 
— or to hear the snort of a steed, the signal of a picket — 
anything to guide me or to give warning of the lurking 
foe. But no : if there had been any camp-fires they were 
dead ; if there had been any tents they were struck. Not 
a sign — not a sound. Everything was quiet as the tomb. 

The great mountains ros^ around me in their mantles 
of pine and hoods of mist, cheerless and repelling, as if 
their solitude had never been broken. The moon was 
driving through a weird and ragged sky, with something 
desolate and solemn in her haggard face that seemed like 
an omen of ill. And in spite of my efforts to be cheerful, 
I felt the iron loneliness and sense of danger creep through 
my flesh and touch the bones. 

None but those who have actually experienced it can 
properly conceive of the apprehensions which throng the 
breast of him, howsoever brave, who knows himself to be 
alone in the midst of enemies who are invisible. The lion 
hunter of Abyssinia is encompassed with peril when h^ 
makes a pillow of his gun in the desert ; and our own 
pioneer slumbers but lightly in his new cabin when he 
knows that the savage, whose monomania is vengeance, 
is prowling the forest that skirts his clearing. But the 
lion is not always hungry ; and even the Indian may be 
conciliated. The hunter confronts his terrible antao^onist 
with something deadlier than ferocity. The hand that 
levels and the eye that directs the rifled tube are nerved 
and fired by " the mind, the spirit, the Promethean spark," 



THE scout's story. ' 121 

which, in tlii^case, is indeed a " tower of strength." And 
the settler, with promises and alcohol, may have won the 
savage to himself. But to the solitary scout, at midnight, 
every turn of the road may conceal a finger on a hair 
trigger ; every stump or bush may hold a foe in waiting. 
If he rides through a forest, it is only in the deepest 
shadow that he dares ride upright ; and should he cross 
an open glade, where the starlight or moonshine drops 
freely, he crouches low on the saddle and hurries across, 
for e\ery second he feels he may be a target. His senses 
are painfully alive, his faculties strained to their .utmost 
tension. 

By way of a little episode, I knew a very successful 
scout, who met his death, however, on the Peninsula, who 
would always require a long sleep immediately after an 
expedition of peril, if it had lasted but a few hours, and 
had apparently called forth no more muscular exertion 
than was necessary to sit the saddle. But, strange as it 
'may seem, he would complain of overpowering fatigue, 
and immediately drop into the most profound slumb.er. 
And I have been inforn^ed that this is very frequently 
the case. I can only attribute it to the fact that, owing 
to the extreme and almost abnormal vivacity — I think 
of no better word — of the faculties and senses, a man on 
these momentous occasions lives tw^e or' thrice as fast as 
ordinarily ; and the usual nerve-play and wakefulness of 
a day and night may thus be concentrated in the brief 
period of a few hours. 

But to resume : I felt to the full this apprehension, this 
anxiety, this exhaustion, but the knowledge of my posi- 
tion arid the issues at stake kept my blood flowing. I 
had come to the termination of the last plateau of plain, 
\vhen the road led me down the side of a ravine, with a 
prospect ahead of nothing but darkness. Here, too, I was 
compelled to make more noise, as there was no sod for 
my horse to tread on, and the road was flinty and rough 
in the extreme. But I kept on as cautiously as possible, 



122 • THE scout's story. 

when suddenly, just at the bottom of the ravine, where 
the road began to ascend the opposite declivity, I came 
to a dead halt, confrquted by a group of several horsemen, 
so suddenly that they seemed to have sprung from the 
earth like phantoms. 

"Why do you return so slowly?" said one of them, 
impatiently. ''What have you seen? Did you meet 
Colonel Craig?" 

For a moment — a brief one— I gave myself up for lost ; 
but, with the rapid reflection and keen invention which 
a desperate strait will sometimes superinduce, I grasped 
the language of the speaker, and formed my plan accord- 
ingly. 

"Why do you return so slowly?" I had been sent 
somewhere, then. 

" What have you seen ?" I had been sent as a spy, 
then. 

" Did you meet Colonel Craig ?" 

Oho ! I thought, / will be Colonel Craig. No, I won't ; 
I will be Colonel Craig's orderly. So I spoke out 
boldly— 

"Colonel Craig met your messenger, who had seen 
nothing, and advised him to scout down the edge of the 
creek for half a mile. But he dispatched me, his orderly, 
to say that the enemy appear to be retreating in heavy 
masses. I am also to convey this intelligence to Gene- 
ral F." 

The troopers had started at the 'tones of a strange 
voice, but seemed to listen with interest ^nd without sus- 
picion. 

" Did the colonel think the movement a real retreat, or 
only a feint ?" asked the leader. 

" He was uncertain," I replied, beginning to feel secure 
and roguish at the same time ; " but he bade me to say that 
he would ascertain ; and in an hour or two, if you should 
see one rocket up to the north there, you might conclude 
that the Yankees were retreating ; if you should see two, 



THE scout's story. 123 

then you migli.t guess that they were not retreating, but 
stationary, with likelihood of remaining inert for another 
day." 

" Good !" cried the rebel. " Do you know the way to 
the general's quarters ?" 

" I think I can find it," said I ; " although I am not 
familiar with this side of the mountain." 

" It's a mile this side of the Sedley Mansion," said the 
trooper. "You will find some pickets at the head of the 
road. You must there leave your horse, and climb the 
steep, when you will see a farm-house, and fifteen minutes' 
walk toward it will bring you to the general's tent. I 
will go with you to the top of the road." And setting 
off at a. gallop, the speaker left me to follow, which I 
hesitated not to do. Now, owing to their mistake, the 
countersign had not been thought of; but the next picket 
would not be likely to swallow the same dose of silence, 
and it was a lucky thing that the trooper led the way, 
for he would reach them first, and I would have a chance 
tQ catch the password from his lips. But he passed the 
picket so quickly, and dropped the precious syllables so 
indistiuctl}^, that I only caught the first of them — " Tallif 
— while the remainder might as well have been Greek. 
Tally, tally, tally what? Good God ! thought I, what can 
it be? Tally, tally — here I am almost np to the pickets 
—what can it be ? Tally ho ? No, that's English. Tal- 
leyrand ? No, that's French. God help me ! Tally, 
tally — 

" Tallahassee !" I yelled with the inspiration of de- 
spair, as I dashed through the picket, and their levelled 
carbines sank toothless before that wonderful spell — the 
Countersign. 

Blessing my stars, and without further mishap, I 
reached the place indicated by the trooper, which was 
high up on the side of the mountain — so high that clouds 
were forming in the deep valley below. Making my 
bridle fast, I clambered with some dif&culty the still 



124 THE scout's story. 

ascending slope on my left. Extraordinary caution was 
required. I almost crept towards the farm-house, and 
soon perceived the tent of the rebel chief. A solitary 
guard was pacing between it and me — probably a hun- 
dred yards from the tent. Perceiving that boldness was 
my only plan, I sauntered up to him with as free-and- 
easy an air as I could muster. 

" Who goes there ?" 

" A friend." 

"Advance and give the countersign." 

I advanced as near as was safe, and whispered " Talla- 
hassee," with some fears as to the result. 

" It's a d — d lie !" said the sentry, bringing his piece to 
the shoulder in the twinkle of an eye. " That answers 
the pickets, but not me." Click, click, went the rising 
hammer of the musket. 

I am a dead man, thought I to myself; I am a dead 
man unless the cap fails. Wonderful, marvellous to re- 
late, the cap did fail. The hammer dropped with a dull, 
harmless thug on the nipple. With the rapidity of thought 
and the stealth of a panther I glided forward and clutched 
his windpipe, forcing him to his knees, while the gun 
slipped to the ground. There was a fierce but silent 
struggle. The fellow could not speak, for my hand on 
his throat ; but he was a powerful man, with a bowie- 
knife in his belt, if he could only get at it. But I got it 
first, hesitated a moment, and then drove it in his mid- 
riff to the hilt ; and just at that instant his grinders closed 
• on my arm and bit to the bone. Eestraining a cry with 
the utmost difficulty, I got in another blow, this time home, 
and the jaws of tlie rebel flew apart with a 'start, for my 
blade had pressed the spring of the casket. Breathless 
from the struggle, I lay still to collect my thoughts, and 
listened to know if the inmates of the tent had been dis- 
turbed. But no ; a light was shining through the canvas, 
and I could hear the low murmur of voices from within,, 
which I had before noticed, and which seemed to be those 



THE scout's story. 125 

of a number of men in earnest consnltation. I looked 
at tlie corpse of the rebel remorsefully. The slouched 
hat had fallen off' in. the scuffle^ and the pale face of the 
dead man was upturned to the scant moonlight. It was 
awoung, noblC; and exceedingly handsome face, and I 
noticed that the hands and feet were small and beautifully 
shaped; while everything about the body denoted it to 
have been the mansion of a gallant, gentle soul. 

Was it a fair fight? did I attack him justly? thought 
I ; and in the sudden contrition of my heart, I almost 
knelt to the ground. But the sense of my great peril 
recurred to me, stifling everything else, however worthy. 
I took off the dead man's overcoat and put it on, threw 
my cap away and replaced it with the fallen sombrero, 
and then dragged the corpse behind an outhouse of the 
farm that stood close by. Eeturning, I picked up the 
gun, and began to saunter up and down in a very com- 
mendable way indeed ; but a sharp observer might have 
noticed a furtiveness and anxiety in the frequent glances 
I threw at the tent, which would not have augured well 
for my safety. I drew nearer and nearer to the tent at 
every turn, until I could almost distinguish the voices 
within; and presently after taking a most minute survey 
of the premises, I crept up to the tent, crouched down to 
the bottom of the trench, and listened with all my might. 
I could also see under the canvas. There were half a 
dozen rebel chieftains within, and a map was spread on a 
table in the centre of the apartment. At length the con- 
sultation was at an end, and the company rose to depart. 
I ran back to my place, and resumed the watchful saunter 
of the guard with as indifferent an air as possible, draw- 
ing the hat well over my eyes. 

The generals came outside of the tent and looked 
about a little before they disappeared. Two of them 
came close to me and passed almost Avithin a yard of the 
sentry's body. But they passed on, and I drew a deep 
breath of relief. A light still glimmered through the tent, 



126 THE scout's story. 

but presently tliat, too, vanished, and all was still. But 
occasionally I would hear the voice of a fellow sentry, 
or perhaps the rattle of a halter in some distant manger. 

I looked at my watch. It was two o'clock — would be 
five before I could fire the signal, and the attack was 1st) 
be at daybreak. 

Cautiously as before, I started on my return, reaching 
my horse without accident. Here I abandoned the gun 
and overcoat, remounted and started down the mountain. 
^' Tallahassee " let me through the first picket again, but 
something was wrong when I cantered down the ravine 
to the troopers to whom I had been so confidentially dis- 
patched by Colonel Craig. Probably the genuine mes- 
senger, or perhaps the gallant Colonel himself had paid 
them a visit during my absence. At any rate, I saw that 
something unpleasant was up, but resolved to make the 
best of it. 

" Tallahassee 1" I cried, as I began to descend the ravine. 

"Halt, or you're a dead man!" roared the leading 
trooper. " He's a Yank !" " Cut him down 1" chimed in 
the others. 

" Tallahassee 1 Tallahassee !" I yelled. And committing 
my soul to God, i plunged down the gulley with sabre 
and revolver in either hand. 

Click — bang ! something grazed my cheek like a hot 
iron. Click — bang again! something whistled by my 
ear with an ugly intonation. And then I was in their 
midst, shooting, stabbing, slashing, and swearing like a 
fiend. The rim of my hat flapped over my face from a 
sabre cut, and I felt blood trickling down my neck. But 
I burst away from them, up the banks of the ravine, and 
along the bare plateau, all the time yelling " Tallahassee I 
Tallahassee !" without knowing why. I could hear the 
alarm spread back over the mountain by halloos and 
drums, and presently the clatter of pursuing steeds. But 
I fled onward like a whirlwind, almost fainting from 



IN THE SHENANDOAH VALLEY. 12T 

excitement and loss of blood, until I reeled off at the 
hollow stump. 

Fiz, iiz ! one, two ! and mj heart 'leaped with exultation 
as the rushing rockets followed each other in quick sue- • 
cession to the zenith, and burst on the gloom in glittering 
showers. Emptying the remaining tubes of my pistol at 
the nearest pursuer, now but fifty yards off, I was in the 
saddle and away again without waiting to see the result 
of my aim. It was a ride for life for a few moments ; but 
I pressed as noble a steed as ever spurned the footstool, 
and as we neared the Union lines the pursuit dropped oflp. 
"When I attained the summit of the first ridge of our 
position, and saw the day break faintly and rosily beyond 
the pine-tops and along the crags, the air fluttered violently 
in my face, the solid earth quivered beneath my feet, as a 
hundred cannon opened simultaneously above, below, and 
around me. Serried columns of men were swinging ir- 
resistibly down the mountain toward the opposite slope ; 
flying field-pieces were dashing off into position ; long 
lines of cavalry were haunting the gullies, or hovering 
like vultures on the steep ; and the blare of bugles rose 
above the roar of the artillery with a wild, victorious peal. 
The two rockets had been answered, and the veterans of 
the" Union were bearing down upon the enemy's weakened 
centre like an avalanche of fire. 

" So that, is all," said the scout, rising and yawning. 
''.The battle had begun in earnest. And maybe I didn't 
dine with General E. when it was over and the victory 
gained. Let's go to bed." 



IN THE SHENATOOAH YALLEY. 

A squadron of two hundred of Stuart's cavalry had 
surprised seventeen mounted Union pickets, who were 
completely surrounded, and, of course, ordered to sur- 
render. 



128 INCIDENTS OP A FIGHT. 

" Sir," said the lieutenant, '' such is the fate of war," and 
offering his sword, turned his horse to his command, and 
gave the order — 

"Boys, empty sixteen saddles." 

One flash from sixteen carbines obeyed. Dashing on 
the rebel captain, and seizing him by the collar, he dragged 
him away, dangling at his horse's flanks. 

" Follow, men !" 
' They did ; and riddled though their clothes were with 
bullets, they all escaped. 

After the first mile had been made, the lieutenant 
checked up, and asked his prisoner, the captain, if he 
would prefer any other mode of riding. 

Of course he did. As good luck would have it, the 
rebel's horse was loyal to his master, and he had in the 
melee followed him. One of our men seized his bridle 
rein, and thus, as the rebel captain struck on his feet, his 
own horse whinneyed to his master's call. 

"Now, captain, you must feel at home, I suppose, you 
are mounted again." 

It was a strange coincidence. The rebel was sent 
to the Old Capitol Prison some days later, and among 
the courtesies shown to him there, he found the identical 
copy of Xenophon's Cyropaedia which he and his captor 
had both read, as class-mates, in Yale College, ten years 
before. 



USTOIDEIfTS OP A TIGHT. 

At the battle of Hanover Court-House, Ya., two ser- 
geants met in the woods ; 'each drew his knife, and the 
two bodies were found together, each with a knife buried 
in it to the hilt. 

Some men had a cool way of disposing of prisoners. 
One, an officer of the Massachusetts Ninth, well known 
in Boston as a professor of muscular Christianity, better 



A HEROIC SAILOR. 129 

known as "the cTiild of the regiment," while rushing 
through the woods at the head of his company, came 
•upon a rebel Seizing the "gray back" by the coHar, he 
threw him over his shoulder, with " Pick him up, some- 
body." 

A little Yankee, marching down by the side of a fence 
which skirted the woods, came upon a strapping secesh, 
who attempted to seize and pull him over the rails, but 
the little one had too much science. A blow with the 
butt of a musket levelled secesh to the ground and made 
him a prisoner. There were many marvellous escapes. 



A HEEOIO SAILOE. 

"When the record of the war comes to be written, not 
the least interesting feature of it will be the heroic. deeds 
of the humble men who compose the rank and file of the 
army and navy. Instances of individual heroism and 
self-sacrifice are already presenting themselves in abun- 
dance, and when the conflict is happily ended, will furnish 
a rich harvest of materials for the annalist and historian. 
One of the most conspicuous of these in any chronicle of 
the war, must be the case of the gallant tar, John Davis, 
whose courage in the attack on Elizabeth City, N. C, was 
made the subject of special mention by his immediate " 
commander and by Commodore Goldsborough, who thus 
united to make manifest the bond of true chivalry, which 
binds together all brave men, however widely separated 
their station.v^ The following is the story of this brave 
sailor : — 

" Lieut. J. C. Chapin, commanding United States steamer 
Yalley City, ofi' Eoanoke Island, writing to Commodore 
Goldsborough, noticed a magnanimous act of bravery by 
John Davis, gunner's mate on board his vessel, at the 
taking of Elizabeth City. He says John Davis was at 
his station during the action, in the magazine, issuing 
9 



130 ADTENTURE OF KILLDAEE, THE SCOUT. 

powder, when a shell from tlie enemy's battery penetrated 
into the magazine, and' exploded outside of it. He threw 
himself over a barrel of powder, protecting it with his 
own body from the fire, while at the same time passing 
out the powder for the guns. 

" Commodore Goldsborough, in transmitting this letter 
to the Navy Department, says, ' It affords me infinite 
pleasure to forward this communication to the Navy 
Department, to whose especial consideration I beg leave 
to recommend the gallant and noble sailor alluded to ;^ 
and he adds, in a postcript, ' Davis actually seated himself 
on the barrel, the top being out, and in this position he 
remained until the flames were extinguished.' " 

The Navy Department promptly rewarded him. He 
was a gunner's mate, "receiving a salary of twenty-five 
dollars per month or three hundred dollars per year. The 
evidence of his bravery was received at the Navy De- 
partment, and on the next day Secretary Wjelles appointed 
him a gunner, an office which carries with it a salary of 
one thousand dollars per year, and is a life appointment, 
the salary increasing by length of service to one thousand 
four hundred and fifty dollars. 



ADVENTUEE OF KILLDAEE, THE SCOUT. 

"I left the city of Nashville," says Killdare, "to go South, 
taking with me a few goods to peddle. I passed down 
the Charlotte pike, and travelled two miles up the Eich- 
land Creek, then crossed over to the Hardin pike, follow- 
ing that road to Harpeth Creek, and crossed below De 

Morse's mill. At the mill I met De Morse, who 

said to me, 'Killdare, do you make another trip?' I 
replied, 'I do not know.' De Morse then said, 'If you 
get below the meeting-house, you are saved,' and smiled. 
I proceeded on my way until I came to a blacksmith-shop 
on the pike, at which a gentleman by the name of Merlin 



ADVENTURE OP KILLDARE, THE SCOUT. ISI 

came out and asked if I had heard vanything of a man 
•named Sanford being killed. I told Marlin I did not 
know an)^thing about it, and proceeded on to South Har- 
per to Squire Allison's, which is seventeen miles from 
Nashville. I then fed my mules, stopped about one hour, 
and proceeded across South Harper towards Williamsport 

" About one mile the other side of South Harper, two 
rebel scouts came galloping up, and asked me what I had 
for sale. I told them needles, pins, and playing-cards. 
They then inquired, ' Have you any papers to go South ?' 
I replied I had, and showed them some recommendations. 
They asked me to get down from my carryall, as they 
wanted to talk with me. This I did; and they then 
asked — 

" ' Have you any pistols V 

'"No,' I replied. 

" Stepping back a few paces, and each drawing a pistol, 

one of them said, 'You scoundrel, you are our 

prisoner ; you are a Yankee spy, and you (?arry letters 
from the South, and at the dead hour of night you carry 
these letters to Truesdail's ofiice. We lost a very vain- 
able man on Monday while attempting to arrest you at 
your house : his name was Sanford, and he was a great 
deal thought of by General Yan Dorn. So now we've 
got you, you, turn your wagon round and go back.' 

"We turned and went to Squire Allison's again, at 
which place I met Dr. Morton, from Nashville, whom I 
requested to assist in getting me released. Dr. Morton 
spoke to the men, who, in reply, said — 

" ' We have orders to arrest him as a spy, for carrying 
letters to Truesdail's head-quarters.' 

" They then turned back to South Harper Creek, and 
took me up the creek about one mile, where we met about 
eight more of these scouts and Colonel McNairy, of Nash- 
ville, who was riding along in a buggy. The lieutenant 
in command of the squad wrote a despatch to Yan Dorn, 
and gave it to one of the men, by the name of Thompson, 



] 32 ADVENTURE OF KILLDARE, THE SCOUT. 

who had me in custody, and we then proceeded np the 
creek to Spring Hill; towards the head-quarters of General 
Yan Dorn. 

" About six miles up the creek, Thompson learned I 
had some whiskey, which I gave him, and of which he 
drank until he got pretty well intoxicated. In the neigh- 
borhood of Ivy we stopped until about six o'clock in the 
evening. About one mile from Ivy the wheel of my 
carryall broke. A neighbor came to us with an axe and 
put a pole under the axletree, and we proceeded on our 
way. We had gone but a few hundred yards when the 
wagon turned over ; we righted it, and Thompson took a 
carpet-sack full of goods, filled his pockets, and then told 
me 'to go to ; he would not take rne to head- 
quarters.' Changing his mind, however, he said he 
would, as he had orders so to do, and showed me the de- 
spatch written by Lieutenant Johnson to General Yan 
Dorn. It read as follows : — 

" ' I have succeeded in capturing Mr. Killdare. Archy 
Cheatham, of Kashville, says Killdare is not loyal to the 
Confederacy. The Federals have mounted five hundred 
light infantry. Sanford's being killed is confirmed.' 

"Thompson, being very drunk, left me, taking the 
goods he stole. Two citizens came up shortly and told 
me to turn round, and stop all night at Isaac Ivy's, 1st 
District, Williamson County. There we took the re- 
mainder of the goods into the house. At three o'clock 
in the morning a negro woman came and knocked at the 
door. 

" Mr. Ivy says, ' What do you want ?' 

" ' A soldier is dowii at the creek, and wants to know 
where his prisoner is,' was the reply. 

" ' What has he done with the goods he took from that 
man?' 

" ' He has left them at our house; and has just started 
up the creek as I came up.' 

"' That will do.' Goon.' 



ADVENTURE OF KILLDARE, THE SCOUT. 133 

"I was awake, and tried to make mj escape, asking 
Mr. Ivy if he had a couple of saddles to loan me. 

" He said he had ; and I borrowed from him seven 
dollars, as Thompson took all my money (fifty dollars in 
Georgia Currency). He (Ivy) then told me the route I 
should -take — going a few miles towards Franklin, and 
then turn towards my home in Nashville. Taking Ivy's 
advice, we proceeded on our way towards Franklin. 
About eight miles from Franklin, four guerrillas came up 
to me and fired two pistols. 

"'Halt!' said they; 'you want to. make your way to 
tlie Yankees. We have a notion to kill you, any way.' 

" They then ordered me to turn, which I did — two go- 
ing behind, whipping the mules, and hooting and halloo- 
ing at a great rate. We then turned back to Ivy's. 
When we got there, I said — 

" ' Where is Thompson, my guard, who told me to go 
on?' 

'^ "'He was here early this morning, and has gone up 
the hill hunting you, after borrowing my shot-gun,' was 
the answer.' 

" Some conversation ensued between the parties, when 
Ivy wrote a note to General Van Horn and gave it to 
Thompson. Ivy then gave us our equipage, and we Avent 
towards Spring Hill. " On the way we met, on Carter's 
Creek Pike, a camp of four hundred Texan Eangers. 
We arrived at Spring Hill at sundown of the day follow- 
ing. At Van Horn's head-quarters I asked for an inter- 
view with the general, w^hich was not allowed, but was 
ordered to Columbia to prison until further orders. 

"^Tlie next evening a Nashville soldier, who stood sen- 
tinel, let me out, and said, 'You have no business here.' 
I made my way towards Shelby ville, crossed over Duck 
Creek ; made my way to the Louisburg and Franklin 
Pike, and started towards Franklin. Before we got to 
the pickets we took to the woods, and thus got round the 
pickets. A farmer reported having seen me to the guard. 



134 THE NIGHT OF THE BATTLE OF BALL'S BLUFF. 

« 

and I was taken again towards Yan Dorn's head-quarters/ 
six miles distant. I had gone aboilt one mile, when I fell 
in with Colonel Lewis' command, anc^was turned over to 
an orderly-sergeant, with whom I was acquainted, and 
by whom I was taken to the head-quarters of Colonel 
Lewis. ' There I was discharged from arrest, and was 
told by the colonel what route I should take in order to 
avoid the scouts, which I did; and finally arrived safely 
within the Union lines." 



THE NIGHT OF THE BATTLE OP BALL'S BLTJPF. 

It was a gloomy night in Washington. One of the 
unexpected and heart-chilling disasters which befell the 
Union arms in the early history of the war had that day 
happened at Ball's Bluiff (October 21,' 1861). Our forces 
had been routed and slaughtered, and the gallant Colonel 
Baker, who had left the Senate-chamber to lead his 
splendid California Eegiment to the war, had fallen, dying 
instantly, pierced at the same second by seven bullets. 
This was a national loss. His place in the army, in the 
Senate, in the hearts of the people of California and Ore- 
gon, in the admiration of his companions-in-arms in 
Mexico, and in the realms of eloquence, would remain 
vacant. JSTo man living was invested with all these rare 
and great attributes in so eminent a degree. The appa- 
rently well-founded suspicion that he had fallen a victim 
to the foulest treason subsequently mingled the intensest 
indignation with inconsolable grief for his cruel and un- 
timely death. 

It was late in the evening when the news reached 
"Willard's; but a large crowd was still there, among 
whom, as always, were many well-known public men. 
In those days secession was more popular in Washington 
than it has since been or is likely ever to become again. 
Not only was some slimy spy lurking within earshot of 



THE NIGHT OF THE BATTLE OF BALL'S BLUFF. 135 

every man wortli tracking, but there were scores of strong 
sympathizers with the rebellion, who caught with avidity 
the first rumor of disaster to the national arms. 

These abettors and agents of Davis wore the mask as 
closely as they could ; and although the liahitues of the 
capital could tell them at a glance, and by an instinct of 
loyalty nearly infallible, knew when one of them entered 
the room, yet on some occasions the sudden announce- 
ment of bad news for our cause threw^them from their 
guard, and the gleam of fiendish delight flashed from 
their faces. 

" Baker was killed at Ball's Bluff this afternoon." 

Never did news transform men's countenances quicker. 
One class received it with blank amazement and horror ; 
the other, with demoniac exultation. 

Words fell which neither party could restrain; and 
the blood of the coolest began to boil when they heard 
the murdered Baker's name insulted. A movement was 
made which bolder men than traitors would not have 
attempted to resist. The villains started, by a common 
impulse, for the two doorways, or that mosaic pavement 
would have worn another color within ten seconds. A 
minute later, the place was cleansed ; the unclean spirit 
had gone out ! — all but one, perhaps. 

A very red-faced, stalwart man, who had stood by and 
seen all that had been going on without saying a word, 
finally remarked, with a pretty determined air, that " as 
for himself he didn't care much about the fight. He lived 
on the Lower Mississippi, and the people down his way 
could take care of themselves. As long as they owned 
the Mississippi, the d — d abolitionists could make all the 
muss they pleased. We hold the Gulf of Mexico^ and 
the Northwest, and the Yankees may be d — d." 

A very tall, lean, awkward, bony-looking man sidled 
quietly up to the Mississippian, and, putting his nose, by 
a stoop, quite close to his face, said, in unmistakable /ar- 
Western brogue — 



136 THE NIGHT OF THE BATTLE OF BALL'S BLUEF. 

"Look here, stranger," and gently emphasizing his re- 
mark by taking the stranger's left ear between his thumb 
and finger; "now you may not know it, but I live in 
Minnesoty, and we make that Mississippi water you call 
yourn, and we kalkilate to use it some.'' 

The stranger's hand moved pretty quick for a side- 
pocket, but not quite quick enough. I saw a movement, 
I heard a blow, and the blood spattered surrounders 
sliglitly. in less time than such enterprises nsually re- 
quire, the stranger had fallen heavily on the marble floor, 
striking his head against an iron column, and remaining 
in a condition which rendered it desirable to have his 
friends look after him, if he had any. 

The Western gentleman was congratulated — when he 
apologized, " I didn't want to hurt the feller, and I didn't 
care about his bowie-knife going through me, nother. 
B.ut the tarnal traitor must let the old country alone, and 
_pa7-tickilarly that big river. We want to use that tliar, 
out West." 

Baker's body was brought across the Potomac the even- 
ing he fell. It rested all day, and then by ambulance was 
conveyed to Washington, and carried through the same 
hospitable doorway of his friend Colonel Webb, from 
whose steps I had parted with him as he mounted his 
horse and gave ns his warm, earnest hand only two or 
three mornings before! Oh. how radiant was his face! 
how athletic and symmetrical his form! how unsullied 
his ambition ! how pure his devotion to God and country !. 

"God spare his life, at least!" we said, as we saw him 
disappear around the corner ! Tlds prayer Heaven could 
not grant. 

The following day, wdien the last preparations for the 
tomb had been made, we went to, gaze once more, and 
forever, on what of earth remained of the form which so 
lately enshrined the noble spirit. 

"Then niournfuli.y the parting bugle bid 
Its larywell o'er the grave." 



INCIDENTS OF FORT PICKENS. 137 

California claimed her hero and statesman, and his 
ashes now repose on the calm shore of that ocean which 
washes the western base of the empire for whose glory 
he lived and died. His bod}^ lies in Lone Mountain 
Cemetery, near the city of San Francisco, and over it will 
rise one of the most superb monuments Avhich the genius 
of Art has ever erected in honor of human greatness. 



iirorDE^Ts or foet pioeens. 

I went to visit the Fort. Took a circuit first of the 
covered Y\^ay, then of the parapet and ramparts. All 
around the Fort, inside and out, were marks of the ene- 
my's shot and shell. On the glacis, here and there, are 
deep grooves, ending in a large hole, where the shot had 
plumped into it, and where had been shell which had 
burst. The hole was a great excavation, into which you 
could drive an ox-cart. Where the projectiles have struck 
the standing walls, they have clipped off" patches of the 
brick- work (it is a brick and not a stone fort) perhaps 
eight or ten feet deep, and, where they struck the corners, 
larger portions have been removed ; but in no case has 
any part of the fortifications received an injury tending 
in the least to Aveaken it, and this after two days' heavy 
firing. 

The only man who was killed outright during the two 
days' action, was an artilleryman, who was pas.sing into 
the casemates with some bread from the bake-house. A 
shell exploded at the other side of the area, and one piece, 
flying a distance of some two or three hundred feet, passed 
through his body, under his arms. He walked a few 
steps and fell dead. 

There were many almost miraculous escapes. A shell 
was heard coming toward a gun on the parapet, and the 
men dodged under their bomb-proofs. The shell hit fair 
on top of the bomb-proof, went through, and dropped into 



138 INCIDENTS OF FORT PICKENS. 

a pail of water beside the officer, where it exploded. 
When the men came out again to resume their work, all 
they saw of the officer was .his heels sticking out of a 
pile of rubbish. After digging him out; thej stood 
amazed to see that he was not even hurt. He rose up, 
shook the sand from his hair and clothes, and coolly 
said — 

" Come, come ! what are you standing there gaping at ? 
Load that gun, there." At it they went again, as if nothing 
had happened. 

Another officer, who had charge of a battery of mor- 
tars, had no less than seventeen shells strike within ten 
yards of him. I saw the ground ploughed up in every 
direction, and yet not a man was hurt. About /twenty of . 
the men, who had been relieved from their guns, were 
sitting smoking and watching the firing in a corner pro- 
tected from shot by the walls, when half of a huge shell 
struck and buried itself right in the middle of the group, 
without disturbing them in the least. 

" What's that ?" asked one. 

" The devil knows, and he won't tell," indifferently re- 
sponded another, and went on smoking. 

A ten-inch columbiad came rolling toward a group, 
the fuse whizzing and smoking. 

" Wonder if that'll hit us ?" 

" Guess not ; we're too near it !" Crack went the shell ! 
flying in every direction, but fortunately escaping them 
ail. 

The rebel powder was poor ; as also their shot, except 
that portion which they succeeded in stealing before the 
rebellion broke out. Their practice, however, was said 
to be good — how could it have been otherwise ? Uncle 
Sam taught them at his unparalleled school at West 
Point, but with little thought that the teaching would be 
thus employed. 



A STRANGE BIGHT IN BATTLE. 139 



A STEANGE DUEL. 



A distinguished duel occurred on the battle-field of 
Fort Donelson, between one of Col. Birge's sharpshooters 
and a crack shot inside the enemy's fortifications. Both 
firecl accurately, but both concealed their persons as 
much as possible, and endeavored to deceive each other 
by putting their hats on their ramrods, and thrusting their 
coats from behind the fortifications or the trees. What- 
ever was exposed, almost invariably received a bullet ; 
but the two were so wary and skilful, that it seemed they 
might fire until dopmsday without danger to either. 
About four o'clock in the afternoon, however, the rebel, 
forgetful of prudence, thrust his head over the breast- 
works, thinking, no doubt, as his enemy had not fired for 
five minutes, that he might be dead. The movement was 
fatal. His head was not exposed five seconds, but in 
that brief period the sharpshooter's ball passed into the 
rebel's brain, and stretched him out a corpse, before the 
unfortunate fellow had been able to determine where his 
enemy was lurking, or by whose hand he was destined to 
fall. 



A STEANGE SIGHT W BATTLE. 

At the battle of Stone River, Tennessee, while the men 
were lying behind a crest waiting, a brace of frantic wild 
turkeys, so paralyzed "v^ith fright that they were incapa- 
ble of flying, ran between the lines and endeavored to 
hide among the men. But the frenzy among the turkeys 
was not so touching as the exquisite fright of the birds 
and rabbits. When the roar of battle rushed through the 
cedar thickets, flocks of little birds fluttered and circled 
above the field in a state of utter bewilderment, and 
scores of rabbits fled for protection to the men lying down 



140 HEROISM IN THE HOSPITAL. 

in line on tlie left, nestling under their coats and creeping 
under their legs in a state of utter distraction. They 
hopped over tlie field like toads, and as perfectly tamed 
by fright as household pets. Many officers witnessed it, 
remarking it as one of the most curious spectacles ever 
seen upon a battle-field. 



HEEOISM IE THE HOSPITAL. 

The surgeon said, " He can hardly live." 

He laid the hand down softly, and left this patient, to 
pass through the ward. 

It seemed to say that all that earth could do had been 
done, to save the life of the gallant young soldier. I fol- 
lowed the surgeon a few steps on the routine of duty. 
We stopped, and looked each other in the face. He knew 
I. wanted to know the whole truth. 

"Must the boy die?" 

" There is a shadow of a chance. I will come as^ain after 

o 

midnii2:ht." 

o 

I went back, with a heavy heart, to the cot we had left, 
and, knowing something of hospitals and dying men, I 
sat down to wait and see what new symptoms would 
occur, with the full directions of the surgeon in any 
event. 

The opiate, or whatever it may have been, which I had 
last administered, could not take effect at once ; and some- 
what worn out witli the day's labors, I sat down to thiuk. 
To sleep was out of the question; for ,1 had become so 
deeply interested in this young man it seemed to me I 
could not give him up. 

It was nearly midnight. The gas had been turned off' 
just enough to leave the light needed, and twilight was 
grateful to the sick room ; for in this vast chamber there 
were more than two hundred sick men. Now and then 
came a suppressed moan from one couch, or a low plaint 



HEROISM IN THE HOSPITAL. 141 

of hoperless pain — while at intervals tlirilled from the high 
ceiling the shrill scream of agony. Bat all the while the 
full harvest-moon was pouring in all the lustrous sympathy 
and eft'ulgence it could give, as it streamed over the mar- 
ble pile called the Patent Office, the unfinished north 
wing of which had been dedicated to this house of suf- 
fering. 

Almost noiselessly, the doors of this ward opened every 
few moments, for the gentle tread o^he night nurses, who 
came, in their sleepless vigils, to see if in these hours 
they could render some service still to the stricken, the 
fallen,- and yet not comfortless. 

Leaving my young friend for a few moments, I walked 
through the north aisle ; and it seemed to me — so perfect 
was the regime of the hospital, so grand was its architec- 
tural proportions — more like walking through some 
European cathedral by moonlight, than through a place 
for sick soldiers. The silence greater than speech, the 
suffering unexpressed, the heroism which did not utter 
one complaint, the completeness of the whole system of 
care and curative process, made one of those sights and 
scenes which I would not tear away from my memory 
if I could ; for they have mingled themselves with asso- 
ciations that will link each month and year of time to 
come with all the months and years gone before them. 

I felt a strange interest in this" young man whom I had 
left in what I supposed was his last quiet slumber; and 
yet I knew he would wake once more before he died. I 
approached his cot again. He was still sleeping, and so 
tranquilly I felt a Mttle alarmed lest he might never wake 
till I had touched . is pulse and found it still softly beat- 
ing. 

I let him sleep, and I thought I would sit by his side 
till the surgeon came. 

I took a long, free breath, for I supposed it was all hope- 
lessly over. Then I thought of his strange history: — I 
knew it well. 



142 HEROISM IN THE HOSPITAL. 

He was born not far from Trenton Ealls^tlie youngest 
son, among several brothers, of one of the brave tillers 
of that hard soil. He had seen his family grow up nobly . 
and sturdily, under the discipline of a good religion and 
good government, and with a determination to defend 
both. When his country's troubles began, his first im- 
pulse thus found expression to his brothers : " Let me 
go ; for you are all married ; and if I fall, no matter." 

He went. He had followed the standard of the Kepub- 
lic into every battle-field where the struggle carried him, 
till, worn out, but not wounded, he was borne to this hos- 
pital in Washington, a sick boy. He seemed to have a 
charmed life, for on several occasions his comrades had 
been shot dead or wounded on either side ; and when his 
last cartridge had done execution, 'he carried off' two of 
his wounded companions from the field, bearing them and 
their muskets to the rear — if there were a rear to the flight 
from the Bull Eun of July, '61 — and nourished and 
watched and stood by these comrades till they died, and 
then got the help of a farmer to carry them with his cart, 
a whole day afterward, to be buried in a place which he 
chose. 

The boy's example had inspired that farmer with such 
benevolence — if he were not inspired by patriotism al- 
ready — that he made honored graves for them ; and tho 
writer of this work knows where their ashes rest. 

When this was all over, the boy came back, as a kind 
of rear-guard, of one, in the flight of the army of the 
Potomac, and, having reached the city of Washington 
and reported himself to his commander, fell senseless on. 
Pennsylvania Avenue. He was taken to a neighboring 
house and well cared for ; and I saw him in the hospital 
of which I have spoken. 

But this was only his life as a soldier. There was 
another and a deeper life than that. The great loadstone 
that had led him away was the magnet of his nation. 



HEROffiM IN THE HOSPITAL. 143 

Another loadstone held his heart at home; it was the 
magnet of Love. 

His wild and wayward history — wild only with ad- 
venture and wayward only with romance, he seemed to 
me, as I looked upon his face, so calm, and chiselled into 
sculptured beauty — I thought, either he looked like an 
Apollo with his unstrung bow, or a nautilus, cast on the 
turbulent ocean, to be wafted to some unknown clime, or 
sink forever, on the floor of the deep sea, to find a coral 
sepulchre. 

His dark eyelashes — bent np in such clear relief against 
their white ground — slowly and calmly began to 7nove. 

I sjJrang to my feet ; for it seemed to me there was a 
chance^ yet. 

The surgeon was long in coming ; and yet I knew he 
would come. He did. His sharp and experienced eye, 
as he approached the cot, opened with surprise. Touch- 
ing my shoulder, he said, with surprise — 

" He is still alive." 

In an instant, taking the hand of the dying or dead 
boy — I scarcely knew which^-a faint smile passed over 
the surgeon's face. 

" I am not sure but he may come up yet. If he revives, 
there is one chance left for him, if it be but one in a 
thousand. But I will work for that chance, and see what 
it will come to. ' Here Art triumphs, if it triumphs at 
all.' " 

The pulse seemed to be coming as he took the hand. 

" It acts strangely ; but I have seen two or three cases 
very much like it. Mind you, I do not think we can do 
much with this case ; but you stay and watch, and I will 
come back in half an hour. . 

So, while he went through some other wards, I watched 
the patient. The last glimmer of life, which had given 
some light as this scene was being enacted, faded into 
what seemed to me the calmest repose of death. 



144 HEROISM IN THE HOSPITAL. 

But then, I thoHglit, it is a strange sight, a heart filled 
"with the earnest passions of youth, in the first hopes of 
life budding into their fruition beneath his own primeval 
forest-shades, where if there be an element that ever 
sanctified an early life it would have built a sanctuary— 
for the love he must have borne to the fair being for 
whom he had treasured up his boyhood's jew^els, for whom 
he gave up everj^thing of the earth earthy, to rescue a 
Bepublic, and then go back after this episode of suffering 
to inaugurate the life of a citizen farmer on the bleak 
hills of New York : — if all this could not sustain him, 
what could ? 

In former visits to him he had made me his confidant 
in regard to these matters. He seemed to be haunted 
with the idea that he would, after all, return to Utica, 
and once more see those he loved ; and yet he also seemed 
to me like one whose days were numbered, and the sur- 
geon had told me, after repeated counsels with his profes- 
sional brethren, that it was next to impossible to save his 
life, and that I must not expect it. 

All the while I clung to the belief that some vitality 
of faith, or love, or hope, or patriotism, or divine aid, 
would still <Bend that boy back to the banks of the Mo- 
hawk. 

I saw another nervous twitch around the temples. I 
felt his pulse. It was an indication of hope, or sudden 
death. 

The surgeon came by again. 

" That boy has wonderful vitality," he said, as he looked 
at his face. Whether it was purely my fancy, my hope, 
or a fact, I did not know, but twilight seemed to pass 
over his face. 

"Yes, yes — I — I — wait — a moment. Oh, I shall not die !" 

He opened his eyes calmly, and then a glow which I 
shall never forget suffused his cheek, and, lifting his 
emaciated hands for the first time in several weeks — 
feebly, it is true, but they seemed to me strong — he ex- 



HEROISM IN THE HOSPITAL. 145 

claimed, in a natural voice, " How floats the old flag now, 
boys?" 

The transition from death to life seemed like enchant- 
ment. I could scarcely believe my senses. And yet I 
knew that if he ever rallied this would be the way. 

I now feared that his excitement would carry him be- 
3^ond his strength. I could not keep him from talking. 
I was bending over him to see if he would remember me. 
Looking me steadily in the eyes, his brows knit with per- 
plexity for a few seconds, when with a smile of delight 

and surprise he said, " Yes ! yes 1 it is }■ ou, Mr. L . I 

am glad you stayed with me. I have been dreaming 
about you while I've been asleep ; and I must have been 
asleep a great while. How long?" 

I told him enough to let him understand how ill he 
had been, how long, and how Aveak he still was. He did 
not realize it. His eyes wandered down to his thin hands, 
white as alabaster, and through which the pale-blue 
thread-like veins wandered. 

" Oh ! is it I ? — so lean ? I was not so when I fell sick." 
And large tears rolled down his cheeks. 

I implored him to be quiet and rest, and I promised 
him he should get better every day, and be able to go 
home in a short time. But he grew impatient the niore 
I tried to soothe and restrain him. 

He looked at me beseechingly, and asked, " Won't you 
let me talk a little ? I must know something more, or 
it seems to me I shall go crazy. Please put your ear 
down to me ; I won't speak loud — I won't get exeitedv." 

I did. "Have 3^ou got any letters for me?" 

''Yes, but they -are at my office. You shall have them 
to-morrow. They are all well at home." 

"And Bella?" 

" Yes." 

" Oh, God be praised !" 

After a few moments of repose, he again opened his 
eyes wide. 
10 



146 HEROISM IN THE HOSPITAL. 

"I have been gone so long from the army ! It seemed 
as though I never could get back when I got home. I 
got away ; and I wandered, and wandered — Oh ! how 
tired I was! Where is McDowell? — Is General Scott 
dead? They said so. Did they carry off Old Abe? 
How did he get back ? Did the rebels get into Wash- 
ington that night ? How long have I been sick ? What 
place is this ? — Oh, my head ! my head I" 

I was frightened. He had risen from the deep ocean 
into the sunlight for a brief hour, and now he seemed to 
be going down to come up no more. The tender chord 
of memory had given way. In a little while the surgeon 
came by, and I told him what had happened. 

" I was afraid of that. But I think we can manage it. 
If he wakes again within two hours, give him this powder 
on his tongue, and a sip of the liquid. If he does not, 
wake him gently." 

And so that anxious night wore away. In the morn- 
ing he woke bright and clear ; and from that hour he 
began to get well. But for whole days his life was pul- 
sating in its gossamer tenement, fluttering over -the inisty 
barriers of the spirit- world. 

Bella's letters, received during his extreme illness, could 
now be read. They were among the noblest ever written 
by woman. 

"Our heart-prayers for you," they said, "have been an- 
swered by our Father. We now wait only for your re- 
turn. . When we parted it was not with repining; you 
had gone to the altar of youy country in solemn and com- 
plete dedication. I too was prepared for the sacrifice. I 
expected il>, although I knew how crushingly the blow 
would fall. But if you had not loved your country bet- 
ter than Bella, it would have broken her heart. I hope 
no\^ in a fow weeks you will be again by my side. When 
your health is once more restored, I will promise in ad- 
vance, as you desire, not to try to keep you from rejoin- 
ing your Tegiment ; and if the stars have written that " 



JOE PARSONS, THE MARYLAND BOY. 14 T 

Waltei* shall not be my husband, God has decreed that I 
shall die a widow never married." 

He did return to the Mohawk Yalley. ' He married 
Bella. He returned to the war ; and on the eve of the 
great day of Antietam he heard that his son was born, 
and the hero-father died by the side of Hooker. 



impude:^t coolness. 

In the midst of an engagement with the rebels, eighteen 
miles from Newtonia, Mo., Gen. Schofield sent Lieutenant 
Bloodfelt attended by an orderly, with orders to Colonel 
Hall, Fourth Missouri Cavalry, to move to the left and 
attack in that direction. The route of the lieutenant was 
across a point of woods, in which, while passing, he sud- 
denly found himself facing about forty rebels drawn up 
in irregular line. Without a moment's hesitation, he ana 
the orderly drew their pistols and charged. At the same 
time, tempering bravery with mercy, and not feeling any 
desire to shed blood needlessly, he drew out his handker- 
chief and waved it in token of 'lis willingness to surround 
and capture the whole rebel force rather than shoot them 
down. 

The cool impudence of the act nonplussed the foe, and 
perhaps thinking there was a large force in the rear, eight 
of them threw down their arms and surrendered, and the 
balance, "skedaddled." 



. JOE PAESOIfS, THE MAEYLAND BOY. 

Joe enlisted in the First Maryland regiment, and was 
plainly a "rough" originally. As we passed along the 
hall we first saw him crouched near an open window, 
lustily singing, "I'm a bold soldier boy," and observing 
the broad bandage over his eyes, I said — 



148 JOE PAESONS, THE MARYLAND BOY. 

" What's your name, my good fellow ?" 

"Joe, sir," he answered, "Joe Parsons." 

"And what is the matter with you?" 

"Blind, sir, blind as a bat." 

"In battle?" 

" Yes, at Antietam ; both eyes shot out at one clip." 
Poor Joe was in the front at Antietam Creek, and a Minie 
ball had passed directly through his eyes, across his face, 
destroying his sight forever. He was but twenty years 
old, but he was as happy as a lark ! 

" It is dreadful," I said. 

" I'm very thankful I'm alive, sir. It might ha' been 
•worse, yer see," he continued. And then he told us his 
story. 

" I was hit," he said, " and it knocked me down. I lay 
there all night, and the next day the fight was renewed. 
I could stand the pain, yer see, but the balls was flyin' 
all round, and I wanted to get away. I couldn't see 
nothin,' though. So I waited and listened ; and at last I 
heard a feller groanin' beyond gie. 

" ' Hello !' says I. 

" ' Hello, yourself,' says he. 

" ' Who be yer ?' says I — ' a reJDcl ?' 

" ' You're a Yankee,' says he. 

" ' So I am,' says I. ' What's the matter with you ?' 

" ' My leg's smashed,' says he. 

"'Can't yer walk?' 

"'No.' ', Can't yer see?' 

" ' Yes.' 

• " ' Well,' says I, ' you're a rebel, but will you do 

me a little favor ?' 

"'I will,' says he, 'ef Iken.' 

" Then I says : ' Well, ole butternut, I can't see nothin'. 
My eyes is knocked out ; but I ken walk. Come over 
yere. Let's git out o' this. You p'int the way, an' I'll 
tote yer oif the field on my back.' 

"'BJly for you,' says he. 



A LOYAL PIGEON. 149 

" And so we managed to get together. We shook hands 
on it. I took a wink outer his canteen, and he got on 
to my shoulders. 

" I did the walkin' for both, an' he did the navigatin'. 
An' ef he didn't make me carry him straight into a rebel 
colonel's tent, a mile away, I'm a liar ! Hows'ever the 
colonel came up, an' says he, ' Whar d'yer come from ? 
who be yer ?' I told him. He said I was done for, and 
couldn't do no more shoot'n ; and he sent me over to our 
lines. So, after three days, I came down ^ here with the 
wounded boys, where we're doin' pretty well, all things 
considered." 

" But you will never see the light again, my poor fellow,'* 
I suggested, sympathetically. 

" That's so," he answered, glibly, " but I can't help it, 
you notice. I did my dooty — got shot, pop in the eye — 
an' that's my misfort'n, not my fault — as the old man said 
of his blind boss. 

" But — ' I'm a bold soldier boy,' " he continued, cheerily 
renewing his song ; and we left him in his s-ingular mer- 
riment. Poor, sightless, unlucky, but stout-hearted Joe 
Parsons. 

A LOYAL PIGEON. 

The following is a true and singularly remarkable story 
of a pigeon captured by Mr. Tinker, a teamster of the 
Forty-second New York Volunteers, while the regiment 
was encamped at Kalorama Heights, Va. Mr. Tinker 
made a pet of him, and kept him in camp until they 
started for Poolesville. Strange to say, the pigeon fol- 
lowed on with the train, occasionally flying away at a 
great distance, but always returning, and, when weary, 
would alight on some wagon of the train. 

At night he was sure to come hom^, and watching his 
opportunity, would select a position, and quietly go to 
roost in Tinker's wagon. 



150 FATHERING IN THE CONTRABANDS. 

Many of the men in the regiment took a fancy to "him, 
and lie soon became a general favorite. From Poolesville 
he followed to Washington, and down to the dock, where 
Tinker took him on board the steamer ; so he went to 
Fortress Monroe, thence to Yorktown, where he was ac- 
customed to make flights over and. beyond the enemy's 
works, but was always sure to return at evening, to roost 
and receive his food at Tinker's wagon. From thence ' 
he went all through the Peninsular campaign, afterwards 
to Antietam, and Harper's Ferry, witnessing all the bat- 
tles fought by his regiment. 

By this time he had' gained so much favor, that a 
friend offered twenty-five dollars to purchase him, but 
Tinker would not sell him at any price, and' soon after 
sent him home as a present to some friend. It might be 
interesting to trace the future movements of this remark- 
able specimen of the feathered tribe, but none will doubt 
his instinctive loyalty and attachment to the old Tammany 



regiment. 



GATHEEING IN THE CONTEABAmS. 



Our Southern brethren have been sensitive upon the 
];iegro-labor question from the commencement of the 
rebellion. As a general ruje, they preferred losing or 
lending a horse rather than a slave. They feared' army 
influences upon their chattel — that he would become " a 
mean nigger." Of course the same difficulty would not 
arise in the army education of the horse or mule. For 
this reason it is — at least, we can conceive of no other — ■ 
that the rebel planter has often fled, at short notice, with 
his negroes, leaving wife, children, mules, hogs, and 
household goods to the mercy of the invading Northmen. 
At the outset the negroes were crammed with most awful 
accounts of the ways of the savage Yankees, and many 
of the poor creatures were equally eager with their 
masters to fly from us. 



GATHERING IN THE CONTRABANDS. 151 

Thns premising, we have to relate an amusing affair 
which occurred at Nashville in the fall of 1862. Upon 
the commencement of the fortifications in that city, orders 
were given to impress all able-bodied male. negroes, to be 
put at work upon the forts. The slaveholders of the city 
at once began to secrete their negroes in cellars and by- 
ways. The Federal officers said nothing, but resolved to 
bide their time — their gangs upon the works, meanwhile, 
singing and wheeling away quite merrily. After several 
days all sensation subsided, and an occasional colored 
individual would be seen at an open window or shuffling 
around a street-corner. 

At length the time for action was at hand. A fine 
Sabbath came, and with it a large congregation of pious 
negroes, in all their Sunday array and perfumery. They 
felt in fine feather ; for was not the city being fortified 
and defended, and the day of jubilee for the colored race 
close at hand ? A hymn flowed out in harmonious ca- 
dence, equal in volume to the rolling flood of the Cumber- 
land. A prayer was offered with great earnestness and 
unction, and the preacher had chosen his text, when lo ! 
an apparition appeared at the door — yes, several of them I 
A guard of blue-coated soldiers, with muskets, entered, 
and announced to the startled brethren that the services 
of the evening would be conjsluded at ¥oTt ISTegley. Out 
went the lights, as if by magic, and there was a general 
dive for the windows. Shrieks, howls, and imprecations 
went forth to the ears of darkness, rendering night truly 
hideous. Fancy bonnets were mashed, ribbons were 
rumpled, and the destruction of negro finery was enor- 
mous. 

Some reached the windows .and crawled out, and into 
the hands of guards who were waiting outside. The 
shepherd of the flock was thus caught, it is said, while 
making a dive through the window, head first, butting 
over two " bold soger boys " as \e came out. The scene 
was amusing indeed. And the next morning it was still 



152 JOHN morgan's female spy. 

more comical — the same crowd being at work at the fort, 
dressed in their mussed and bedirtied finery of the pre- 
vious evening, in which . they had slept upon the earth- 
works — they, meanwhile, being the jeer and sport of their 
surrounding darkey acquaintances. 

It is due to these colored laborers of Nashville to add 
that by their labor, during some three months' time, Fort 
Negley and other fortifications were built. They cut the 
stone, laid the stone wall, wheeled and carted the earth, 
blasted the rock ; and they performed their work cheer- 
fully and zealously, and without any pay, except their 
daily rations and perhaps some clothing. 



JOHN MOEGAIT'S PEMALE SPY. 

On the 16th of December, 1862, while the rebel army 
was at Murfreesborough and the Army of the Cumber- 
land at Nashville, a lady of middle age and fine personal 
appearance was walking along the road leading from the 
former to the latter place. Between Lavergne and Kash- 
ville, not far from the Federal pickets, she )vas overtaken 
by a gentleman named Blythe — a Union man and a pa- 
roled prisoner —who had that day procured a pass from 
General Bragg to go to Nashville in his buggy. Seeing 
that she was weary with long walking, he invited her to 
ride, and they proceeded in company about three-fourths 
of a mile, when they came upon a party of Federal and 
rebel officers, consulting about some matter under a flag of 
truce. Blythe, because of his parole, was allowed to pass 
within the lines, but the lady was detained outside until 
her case could be submitted to head-quarters and. per- 
mission obtained for her entry. While thus delayed, 
Blythe overheard Lieutenant iSawkins, in charge of a 
rebel flag, saying to her in a cautiously modulated voice, 
" If they won't let you in, you can go across the countrj^ 
— about four miles — to my father's, and there they will 



JOHN morgan's FEMALE SPY. 153 

rnn 5^ou tlirongh the lines anyliow." This arotised his sus- 
picions, and determined him to report her case at the Police 
Office, with his ideas of her character, and the suggestion 
that a strict watch be maintained upon her movements. 

The next afternoon she was brought in, and im- 
mediately sent to head- quarters. Here she gave her name 
as Mrs. Clara Judd, the widow of an Episcopal clergyman 
who had died the year previous, leaving herself and seven 
children, withont property and in debt. She was on her 
return from Atlanta, Georgia, whither she had been on 
a visit to her son, a boy, who was living there and learn- 
ing the printing business. She wished to go to Minnesota, 
Avhere the remainder of her children were, and where she 
then claimed to resided Her story was told in so simple, 
artless a manner, and with such an air of sincerity, that 
the sympathies of all present were at once enlisted in her 
favor — it not beins^ in the heart of man to doubt, for a 
moment, the truth of all she said. The examination 
ended, a p^iss was given her to Louisville, and she was 
allowed to depart in peace. From the Police Office she 
made her way to the Commercial Hotel, where she ex- 
pected to meet an old friend, but, finding that he was out 
of the city, and that the hotel was too full to obtain 
lodgings, she went to a sutler of her acquaintance, named 
Becker. He also was absent; but she remained over- 
night with his partner and wife — Mr. and Mrs. Beaden. 
Knowing that Blythe was at the Commercial Hotel, she 
wrote him a note, requesting hini to call and see her on 
important private business. 

Early in the evening Blythe called at the police de- 
partment, inquiring if Mrs. Judd had come in, and was 
told that she had just gone, a pass having been issued to 
her. He seemed disappointed, and remarked that they 
had been fooled — that in his opinion her story was essen- 
tially false, and she a bad woman, whom it would be well 
to watch. His reasons for so thinking were freely given, 
and, though they did not entirely destroy the confidence 



154 JOHN morgan's female spy. 

slie had inspired, they served to weaken it materially, 
and to excite doubts as to the truth of her statements and 
the honesty of her intentions. Keturning to his hotel, the 
note from Mrs. Judd there awaiting him fully confirmed 
his previously-formed opinions. So strong were they 
now, and so solicitous ^was he to fathom and disclose the 
mischief which he felt to be brewing, that he again went 
to the police of&ce that evening, taking the note with 
him, and exhibiting it to the authorities there. He was 
advised to call as requested, and endeavor to ascertain 
her true character and designs. He did so, and found 
her at Mr. Beaden's, as stated. After some unimportant 
conversation, she said to him, "Are you loyal?" His 
decidedly affirmative answer she construed to mean that 
he was a friend to the South and favorable to its cause. 
It may here be explained that, though Blythe at his first 
meeting did not recognize her, she at once remembered 
having seen him at Murfreesborough, where he had been 
detained some eight or nine weeks before he \f as allowed 
to proceed to Nashville. As he seemed while there to be 
"under no restraint whatever, she knew nothing of his 
being a paroled prisoner and a Northern man. The fact 
of his having a pass from General Bragg, taken in con- 
nection with certain remarks casually made by him, was 
to her proof positive that he was a Southerner and a rebel. 
To this very natural mistake she was indebted for all the 
misfortune that eventually befell her. 

Completely self-deceived, she immediately took him 
into her confidence, and entered upon an explanation of 
her business and plans. She was going, she said, to 
Louisville, for the purpose of purchasing quinine and 
other medicines for the Southern Confederacy, together 
with a considerable amount of dry goods and groceries 
for herself and others. But this was only a portion of her 
business, and of no importance in comparison with the 
remainder. John Morgan was about to make a raid upon 
the Louisville and Nashville Kailroad, and was only wait- 



JOHN morgan's female SPY. 155 

ing for information as to the strength of the garrisons and 
the disposition of troops along its track, necessary to de- 
termine the most available point of attack. This infor- 
mation she had engaged to obtain and furnish to him on 
her return to Gallatin, where certain of his men were to 
meet her, by appointment, on a fixed day. This day was 
now at hand ; and accordingly she was anxious to start 
for Louisville the next morning, so that she might have 
ample time to purchase her goods and be back to Gallatin 
on the day appointed. Unfortunately, however, her pass 
did not allow her to leave Nashville until the morning 
after, and she wished he would try and exchange it for 
one allowing her to go on the morrow. Blythe oblig- 
ingly consented, and further said that, as it would save 
her a good deal of trouble in Louisville, he would get 
her a pass to go and return as far as Gallatin. With the 
old pass he immediately went a third time to the office, 
stated his wish, and related the conversation that had 
passed between himself and Mrs. Judd. Colonel Trues- 
dail gave him the desired pass, and insisted upon his ac- 
companying her to Louisville, at the same time instruct- 
ing him to afford her every facility for the perfection of 
her plans, but to neither encourage nor restrain her. 

Blythe returned with the new pass according to pro- 
mise. In the conversation that ensued he warned her of 
the danger of the business she was about to embark in; 
cautioning her as to the watchfulness of the Federal ' 
authorities, and endeavored to dissuade her therefrom. 
His advice, however, though well meant and kindly 
enough received, was of no avail. It was her duty, she 
said, to do all that she could for the South ; and, as 
they were God's chosen people, sh.e was not afraid of any 
harm befalling her. Seeing that she was determined in 
her purpose, Blythe affected a deep solicitude in her wel- 
fare, and finally told her he would postpone his business 
for the present and go with her to Louisville then, instead 
of waiting a few days, as he had intended. It would be 



156 JOHN morgan's female. spy. 

a great accommodation, as well as pleasure, to him, he 
remarked, laughingly, for then he could sit with her in 
the ladies' car — no small matter on a train literally 
jammed, with passengers, as that one usually was. Ma- 
dam was highly pleased at this exhibition of kindness, 
and with many thanks endeavored to show her gratitude 
therefor. Thenceforward she placed implicit confidence 
in Blythe, and unreservedly told him all her plans, to- 
gether with much of her past history and experience. 
This was her second trip, she said. The previous one 
had been quite profitable to her, and had enabled her to 
furnish a large amount of valuable information to the 
rebels. 

Throughout the entire journey to Louisville she was 
ever on the alert for the smallest scrap of information. 
At every station, out of the window would go her head, 
and the bystanders be plied with guarded questions con- 
cerning the strength of the place, means of defence, num- 
ber of troops and names of regiments there, etc. Blythe 
was evidently annoyed, and time and again pulled her 
drgss, begging her " for God's sake to sit down and keep 
quiet," or she would attract attention and ruin both her- 
self and him. She replied that it was a part — and a very 
important part — of her business to observe, make inqui- 
ries, and take notes — she must do it. 

At Louisville Blythe paid her every attention, assisted 
her in her purchases, introduced her to one of the best 
dry goods houses in the city, and went with her to New 
Albany, where she bought several hundred dollars' worth 
of drugs and medicines. Here she was well acquainted 
— a fact which she explained by saying that she had made 
purchases there before. These drugs she intended to pack 
in a trunk with a false bottom, but was told by Blythe 
that it would not be necessary, as he would see that her 
trunk was passed without examination. Occasionally he 
would absent himself for several hours, accounting for 
this by representing that he was engaged in buying a 



JOHN MOEGAX4S FE3IALE SPY. 16T 

large stoclv of good?, with whicli he designed returning 
immediately to Murireesborongh. One day he was taken 
quite ill, and was attended and nursed by her in the 
kindest manner. In addition to her confidence, he seemed 
novv to have gained her affections. She devoted herself 
to him as only women do to those whom they love — an- 
,ticipating his slightest wishes, and providing for his every 
want in the most warm-hearted and loving manner. 
Blythe's pretended sickness was soon over, but it left him 
w^eak ; and he wished her to remain at Louisville another 
day. No ; she could not stay. Morgan's men had made 
a positive engagement to meet her that night at Gallatin, 
and she would not disappoint them for the worlds She 
was to tell them, then and there, all that she had seen and 
heard down the road, and to advise them where to tap it. 
In return, they were to assist her in getting her trunks 
through the lines, which could easily be done by putting 
them in the bottom of the wagon-bed and coveiing them 
with fodder. Seeing that she co\ild not be induced to 
remain, Blythe determined to return with her. Flattered 
by this mark of attention and appreciation, she was highly 
delighted and more affectionate than ever. Arrangements 
Avere at once made for the journey, Blythe in the mean- 
while visiting General Boyle, explaining the whole mat- 
ter to him, and procuring an order dispensing with the 
usual examination of baggage in their case, and also tele- 
graphing to Colonel Truesdail, at Nashville, to have 
them arrested at Mitchellsville, just before reaching Gal- 
latin. 

On the way back she was in the best of spirits, and 
could hardly refrain from frequent exhibitions of her 
elation at the success of their schemes. Blythe begged 
her to be careful, or she would expose herself and him 
to ruin. "You know," said he, "if anything should 
Jiappen to you it will get me into trouble, and that would 
make you feel bad; wouldn't it?" He asked if she 
was not afraid of being watched — if she did not think 



158 . JOHN morqan/s female spy. 

sTie was already suspected — seeking by tliis means to 
prepare her mind for the arrest which was soon to occur, 
and at the same time to allay any suspicions she might 
otherwise entertain of his complicity therein. She replied 
that she was, and that there was then in that very car a per- 
son whom she believed to be watching her. She betrayed 
considerable anxiety, and seemed quite uneasy about the 
matter for some time, but finally fell into her usual care- 
less mood. At Mitchellsville she took on board two large 
trunks of goods and clothing, left there on her former 
trip because of her having had too many to get safely 
away at that time without exciting suspicion. 

Just after leaving Mitchellsville, Blythe said to her, 
"Now, this is a dangerous business you are in ; and you 
may not get through. At Gallatin I shall leave you, but 
will go straight through to Murfreesborough ; and if you 
have any word to send, I will take it with pleasure to 
anybody you may name." In reply she wished he would 
see lieutenant Hawkins and tell him that she had arrived 
safely at "Gallatin with her goods, but that there was a 
larger force there than she had expected to find, and she 
might be troubled in getting out ; or if lieutenant Haw- 
kins was not then at Murfreesborough, he might tell any 
of Morgan's men, and their general would be sure to get 
the news and devise some means for her assistance. At 
this time, as well as on previous occasions, she seemed to 
be on very intimate terms with Morgan and to rely im- 
plicitly upon him and his followers. She further informed 
Blythe that her home was in Winchester, Tennessee, but 
that she was on her way to Atlanta, Georgia, where her 
son had a situation in the Ordnance department, and that 
the knitting-machine purchased by her was intended as 
a pattern for the manufacture of others, there being no- 
thing of the kind in the South. 

This conversation was scarcely concluded when both 
were arrested, and Blythe — according to previous arrange- 
ment — roughly handled. Mrs. Judd turned very paK 



JOHN MORGAN'S FEMALE SPY, 159 

and was strangely excited ; tliougli slie seemed more af- 
fected by Blythe's situation and danger than her own. 
Blythe, however, seemed to take it coolly enough, and as 
a matter of course — which but the more increased the 
sorrow of Mrs. Judd, it being for her only that he had 
thus ventured and lost. But regrets were useless now, 
and both were brought on to Kashville at once. Mrs. 
Judd was put under guard at a hotel, and assured that 
Blythe would be hung the next morning. At this intel- 
ligence she became quite distracted, begged and implored 
to be heard in his favor, asserting with broken voice and 
tearful' eyes that he was an jnnocent man, and that the 
guilt and blame of the whole transaction were hers alone. 
Making no impression upon those about her, she went so 
far as to write and send to head-quarters a petitipn that 
he might be spared from a punishment he did not de- 
serve. Blythe, of course, was released at once; but she 
did not know it, and to this day remains ignorant of his 
real fate and location. Her baggage was examined and 
found to contain many hundred dollars' worth of contra- 
band goods — unquestionable evidences of her guilt. 
Among its contents was a Bible, with Blythe's name 
written in it by herself, which she had purchased in 
Louisville, intending to present it to him when they should 
meet again in Murfreesborough. 

The circumstances, when known, created not a little 
excitement in army circles, and the case was personally 
examined by the general commanding and his staff*. The 
crime was the highest known to military law ; the import- 
ance of the consequences involved in the success or defeat 
of the scheme, almost incalculable. In short, it was one of 
those little pivots on which the fortunes of a campaign 
or the fate of an army might turn. For such an offence 
the only adequate punishment was death ; but the person 
implicated was a woman ; and that reverence for the sex 
which brave men ever feel would not allow the applica- 
tion of so extreme a penalty. To pass her lightly by, 



160 INCIDENTS OF GRIERSON's RAID. 

however, could not be reconciled with a sense of dnt}^; 
find it was deemed necessary to make an example of her, 
b^ confining her in the military prison at Alton, Illinois, 
during the war. 



INOIDEITTS OF GEIEESOU'S KAID. 

Upon one occasion, as the Union scouts were feeding 
their horses at the stables of a wealthy planter of seces- 
sion proclivities, the proprietor looking on, apparently 
deeply interested in the proceeding, suddenly burst out 
with — 

" Well boys, I can't say I have anything against you. 
I don't know but that on the whole I rather like you. 
You have not taken anything of mine except a little corn 
for, your horses, and that you are welcome to. I have 
heard of you all over the country. You are doing the 
boldest thing ever done. But you'll be trapped, though ; 
you'll be trapped, mark me." 

At another place, where the men thought it advisable 
to represent themselves as Jackson's cavalry, a whole 
company was very graciously entertained by a strong 
secession lady, who insisted on whipping a negro because 
he did not bring the hoecakes fast enough. 

On one occasion, seven of Colonel Grierson's scouts 
stopped at the* house of a wealthy planter to feed their 
jaded horses. Upon ascertaining that he had been doing 
a little guerrilla business on his own account, our men 
encouraged him to the belief that, as they were the in- 
vincible Yan Dorn cavalry, they would soon catch the 
Yankees. The secession gentleman heartil}^ approver^ 
of what he supposed to be their intentions, and enjoined 
upon them the necessity of making as rapid marches as 
possible. As the men had discovered two splendid car- 
riage horses in the planter's stable, they thought under 



EDDY McrADDEN. ICl 

the circumstances, tliey would be justified in making an 
exchange, which they accordingly proceeded to do. 

As they were taking the saddles from their own tired 
steeds and placing them on the backs of the wealthy 
guerrilla's horses, the proprietor discovered them, and at 
once objected. He was met with the reply that, as he 
was anxious the Yankees should be speedily overtaken, 
those after them should have good horses. 

^' All right, gentlemen," said the planter; "I will keep 
your animals until you return. I suppose you'll be back 
in two or three days at the furthest. When you return 
you'll find they have been well cared for." 

The soldiers were sometimes asked where they got 
their blue coats. They always replied, if they were 
travelling under the name of Van Dorn's cavalry, that 
they took them at Holly Springs of the Yankees. This 
always excited great laughter among the secessionists. 
The scouts, however, usually wore the regular " secesh" 
uniforms. 



EDDY McPADDEN. 

Two days after the battle of Shiloh, says Gen. Eous- 
seau, I walked into the hospital tent on the ground where 
the fiercest contest had taken place, and where many of 
'our men and those of the enemy, had fallen. The hos- 
pital was exclusively for the wounded rebels, and they 
were laid thickly around. Many of them were Kentucki- 
ans, of Breckinridge's command. As I stepped into 
the tent, and spoke to some one, I was addressed by a 
voice, the childish tone of which arrested my attention — 

*' That's Greneral Rousseau ! General, I knew your son 
Dickey. Where is Dick ? I knew him very well." 

Turning to him, I s^w stretched on the ground a hand- 
some boy about sixteen years of age. His face was a 
bright one, but the hectic glow and flush on the cheeks, 
11 



162 A BRAVE BOY AND A GALLANT SAILOR. 

his restless manner, and his grasping and -catching his 
breath as he spoke, alarmed me. I knelt by his side and 
pressed his fevered brow with my hand, and would have 
taken the child into my arms, if I could. 

" And who are you, my son ?" said I. 

" Why, I am Eddy McFadden, from Louisville," was 
the reply. " I know you. General, and I know your son 
Dick. I've played with him. Where is Dick?" 

I thought of my own dear boy, of what might have 
befallen him; that he, too, deluded by villains, might, 
like this poor boy, have been mortally wounded, among 
strangers, and left to die. My heart bled for the poor 
child ; for he was a child ; my manhood gave way, and 
burning tears attested, in spite of me, my intense suffer- 
ing; I asked him of his father ; he had no father. Your 
mother ? He had no mother. Brothers and sisters ? 

" I have a brother," said he. " I never knew what 
soldiering was. I was but a boy, and they got me off* 
down here." 

He was shot through the shoulder and lungs. I asked 
him what he needed. He said he was cold and the ground 
was hard. I had no tent nor blankets ; our baggage was 
all in the rear at Savannah. But I sent the poor boy my 
saddle-blanket, and returned the next morning with 
lemons for him and the rest ; but his brother in the Second 
Kentucky regiment, had taken him over to his regiment 
to nurse him. I never saw the child again. He died in 
a day or two. Peace to his ashes. I never think of this 
incident that I do not fill up as if he were my own child. 



^ BEAVE BOY AND A GALLANT SAILOE. 

One of the powder boys on the Bienville, Wm. Henry 
Steele by name, deserves particular attention. He is only 
fourteen years old, a bright, active fellow, and performed 
his duties with signal bravery. It was his duty to hand 



A BRAVE BOY AND A GALIANT SAILOR. 163 

cartridges to one of the gunners. While the Bienville 
was in the thickest of the engagement, the balls whistled 
fiercely over the deck and splashed about in the water, 
but he never wavered. A large rifled shot struck the 
water some distance from the steamer, bounded upward, 
and crashins: throus^h the beam, tore throuorh the bodies 
of two men standing near him at his gun, and wounded 
two others. He handed his cartridge to the gunner, and 
stepping over the bodies, brought a fresh supply of am- 
munition, with which he continued his labors. 

After the fight. Captain Steedman, in thanking his men 
for their noble conduct, especially commended the bravery 
of young Steele. During a part of the time the Bienville 
was the mark for almost the entire fire of both rebel bat- 
teries, and her crew displayed the greatest heroism. The 
first shot fired at her struck, and was one of the most 
serious. Her guns were in such constant use that they 
became hot, and almost leaped from the deck at each 
discharge. It is really wonderful that her damage is so 
very immaterial. Beyond a hole between decks, another 
through the beam, just at the lower part of the gunwale, 
a cut shroud and a battered, stove-pipe (not smoke-stack), 
she is unharmed. 

The Wabash also came in for a large share of the fight. 
A cannon-shot passed along her deck, and struck Thomas 
Jackson, the coxswain. The ball nearly carried away 
one of his legs, leaving it so that it hung only by shreds 
of flesh and skin. Leaning against a gun, he drew out 
his sheath-knife, and tried to cut it off entirely. The 
knife was too dull, and his shipmates hastened to him, 
and carried him below. He kept continually asking 
how the fight progressed, saying, " I hope we'll win ; I 
hope wfe'll beat them." He died in two hours, his last 
words expressing happiness that he had done something 
for his country. 



164 CHARACTERISTIC INCIDENT. 



OHAEAOTEEISTIO INCIDENT. 

An incident of adventure characteristic of the Anderson 
Zouaves, and of rigorous barbarism characteristic of the 
blood-earnest warfare of these rebels. One day, Henry 
Oehl,'of company G, Anderson Zouaves, with a comrade 
w^ent forward to a distant farm/house, to get information 
and enlarge his topographical knowledge of Virginia. 
The farmer came into the yard, and a conversation sprang 
up between the three. 

" Suddenly," said Oehl, " twenty rebel soldiers rose like 
ghosts from the edge of the woods just beyond the house, 
and rushed towards us, calling to us to surrender. Not 
being much in that line of business, we raised our pieces 
and let fly at them." They returned the fire. A ball 
struck Oehl's right hand, knocked his musket out of- it, 
and entered the abdomen at the centre, and went out at 
the left side. To run had now become a duty. Oehl 
doubled the corner of the house, and made for the nearest 
recesses of the White Oak Swamp, via a (iorn-field, and 
the bushy covers of a line of old rail-fence. The chase 
was a keen one. . 

Oehl's coolness, cunning, and courage saved him. Em- 
bosomed in the swamp, he watched his own hurt, and 
plugged the wound through his abdomen with his fingers. 
Soon he saw his pursuers return to the house, talk a 
moment with the farmer, and gesticulate forcibly to the 
doomed man. Some seized him, and some entered his 
house. The hidden Zouave was near enough to the build- 
ing to catch the sounds within of the shrieking of children. 
Immediately these rushed out of the door, followed by a 
smoke, and soon by a flame. The ruffians burned the 
Virginian's house over his head, for the crime of talking 
with Northern soldiers who entered his yard. 



SALLIE RICHMOND AND DEVIL BILL. 165 



SALLIE EIOHMOIJD AXD DEVIL BILL. 

The falls of the ISTew Eiver are Yerj fragrant ; the 
water thunders down towards the Gauley from one preci- 
pice to another, almost * ontinually ; pausing but a mo- 
ment at the feet of its wild leaps, in boiling caldrons, as 
if bewildered, and awaiting strength for new and wilder 
leaps. Throughout its entire course in Virginia, there 
are but a few rods of calm water. At these points are 
fords or ferries, usually the latter. For one hundred 
miles from the mouth of New Eiver there are but three 
good ferries, and of course are known far and near, 
tlv'oughout the country. The first is Eichmond Ferry, 
and seventy-five miles from the falls of the Gauley. The 
other two are known as Pack's Upper and Lower Ferry. 
These ferries, then, are the only means of intercourse 
between the valleys north and south of the river, and 
necessary points of occupation to an army operating on 
both sides of the river. Yet the rough mountain, roads 
will not admit of sufficient transportation to subsist any 
considerable number of troops, and the Federal forces 
sought to maintain control of the ferries, by frequently 
sending scouting parties to them and their neighborhoods, 
while the rebel '' bushwackers," and guerrilla parties, for 
the same purpose, hovered continually around them. 

While affairs stood thus, my regiment was ordered to 
Ealeigh C. 11. AYe found the House of the Court perfo- 
rated with loop-holes, and every brick dwelling in the 
village converted into an embrasured fortification, with 
look out and all appurtenances of a besieged city. Our 
troops had been threatened by the rebels from Eichmond 
Ferry, during the winter, and these precautions had been 
taken in anticipation. Shortly after our arrival at Ealeigh 
G. H., Capt. Warner, of Union County, was detailed with 
one hundred picked men. — among whom were many of 
the Jerome and Belle Point boys — to visit Eichmond 



166 SALLIE RICHMOND AND DEVIL BILL. 

Ferry, and cut off the retreat of a body of guerrillas, who 
had made a raid on the north side of the river, to destroy 
rebel property, and take as -prisoners, or kill all suspi- 
cious characters in the neighborhood. Towards the close 
of the first day the command neared the river. Advance 
and flanking parties were thrown out from the main body, 
and the troops moved down from the mountain toward 
the ferry. A large opening suddenly burst into view 
and the targe bottom farm of the proprietor of the ferry 
lay stretched out before them. Presently Eichmond him- 
self came out to meet them. He was a tall athletic man, 
and past the meridian of life ; he carried a long and heavy 
rifle on his shoulder and a large hunter's knife dangled 
from the strap of his deer-skin bullet pouch. 

" Hellow, thar," said he on nearing us, " who are you ?" 

" Federal troops, sir," answered the captain. 

" Well, I reckon'd so the moment I sot my eyes on 
them thar blue coats of your'n. Whar you goin' ?" 

" Down to the ferry, sir." 

" Come along, then ; old Eichmond's the very man you 
are huntin' for, eh?" 

" Yes ; are you Eichmond ?" 

" I reck'n I am." 

" They tell me you are a true Union man, Mr. Eich- 
mond ?" 

'' Well, I reck'n thar ain't ary better one in these moun- 
tains than old Sam' Eichmond, unless it be my boy Bill, 
' Devil Bill ;' you've hear'n of him up thar at Ealeigh C. 
H., I reck'n?" 

" Oh yes," said the captain. " Lead on, Mr. Eichmond." 

The old man took the trail down the mountain, fol- 
lowed by the captain and his men. They shortly came 
to the cleared field through which the path led down to 
the " Eichmond House." As they approached the old 
man's dwelling, a young lady, of apparently " two score 
seasons," came out to meet them ; the old 'man, in his off 
hand, rude way, said, "Well, Sallie, here's Capt. Warner 



SALLIE RICHMOND AND DEVIL BILL. I6t 

and some troops, come down to the ferry ' on business ;' 
the captain is tired and hungry ; get us some supper, for 
more than likely thar'll be something for us to do, soon, 
eh, captain?" 

" Yes, if our scouts drive down that party of scoundrels 
upon Blue Stone, they will come here to cross, and we 
must be on the lookout for them, and assist them in 
crossing a much darker stream than New Kiver." 

" That's it," said the old man ; " come in, captain." 

Sallie speedily "spread the cloth and set the table," 
then turning to Captain Warner, she said, " Set up, cap- 
tain, supper is ready ; we boarded Gen. Floyd four weeks 
last fall, and he sat in that same chair and at that same 
table, day after day ; we are glad to change boarders." 
Sallie waited on the table, and then, attracted by some 
noise, went to the door. 

" Some one over thar," she said, pointing towards the 
river ; " hollered twice, then once, then twice." 

" All right," said the old man, " that's our signal, cap- 
tain ; I'll go down and bring the man over." 

" I'll go myself," said Sallie, and she was off instantly. 
The old man sat down again at the table, and turning to 
the captain, he said — 

"Good girl, that thar Sallie." 

" I have no doubt of it," answered the captain. 

" Them's her'n," and the old man pointed to a double- 
barrelled shotgun and cartridge-box, suspended on hooks 
from the wall. 

" Does she use them ?" asked the captain. 

" Indeed she does, sir ; and I reckon as how she ain't 
afear'd to, either. A soldier gave her the box, and my 
Bill gave her the gun. He took it from a secesher. 
You've hear'n of ' Devil Bill' up to Ealeigh Court House, 
eh?" 

" Yes, I've heard of him." 

Sallie shortly after entered the house with the stranger 
she had rowed across the river. He was dressed in the 



1G8 SALLIE RICHMOND AND DEVIL BILL. 

lioiTie-made butternut stjie, with fringed trimmings on 
his hunting-shirt, and accoutred like Eichmond. The 
old man greeted him warmly, and introduced him to tlie 
captain as " one of the Union men" who had stood by 
him in several scrapes he liad with the "bushwbackers 
and guerrilhis, and there are several more of 'em, true 
blue; how would you like 'em to come down and give 
■Q s a 1 i ; 't to ■ ni gh t. eh ? ' ' 

''Very much, Mr. Richmond; tell them all to come," 
said the captain. 

The old man said a few words in a low tone to the 
stranger, who shortly after left the house and took a 
path down the river, and was almost immediately out of 

The captain went out to visit his pickets, and the old 
man went with him, and at his suggestion new posts 
Avere located, a few old ones abandoned, and others 
strengthened. They returned to the house confident 
and expectant. About nine o'clock the sentinel at tlio 
door cried out "Who goes there?" The captain and 
Eichmond hastened out; six armed men stood out in the 
field but a short "distance from the sentinel, who had 
cocked his musket and " covered" tlie party. 

"Friends!" said one of the men. 

"That's so," said Eichmond; "come on, boys." 

"Let them come^ sentinel," said the captain; and the 
party came up. 

"AH right?" asked the old man. 

"Yes," said one of the men, "and more of our boys 
down thar comin'." 

They all went into the house and gathered around the 
fire. The new comers were dressed like the stranger, in 
suits of butternut, and fringed hunting-shirts, and each 
bore a lieavy rifle, a knife, and pouch. As each sat down 
lie drew from his ]^ouch a pipe of the hemlock root, fillerl 
it with tobacco, lighted it, and silently awaited events. 
The challenge of- the sentinel became more and more fre- 



SALLIE RICPIMOND AND DEVIL BILL. 109 

quent, until full twenty of Kiclimond's men had come in, 
and then it ceased altogether. They were strange-look- 
ing men, and as they gathered round the old hearth-stone, 
with their long rifles, their knives and pipes, and dressed 
in uniform suits of butternut, and frino-ed huntin2:-shirts, 
tliey presented a picture one might do well to study — a 
jiicture one might go back a century to find a counterpart 
for, and one from which a few steps — to the troops outside — 
•would, like Rip Van Winkle, take you a century ahead. 

After midnight the captain and Richmond again visited 
the pickets. Everything was quiet, and they returned 
to Richmond's house. The old man loaded his pipe, and 
the two sat down by the fire. 

"You say your son Bill is up at Raleigh C. 11., Mr. 
Richmond?" said the captain. 

" Yes, ' Devil Bill,' they call him, in these mountains ; I 
reckon you're hearin' of him up there to Raleigh C. H., 
captain ?" 

"Yes, he was taken once by the rebels, I believe." 

"Yes he war, an' I'll tell you how, captain, though it's 
a long story, and may be you Avon't like to hear it all ?" 

"Oh yes," said the captain, "go on, by all means, Mr. 
Richmond." 

" Well, ever since the seceshers got to carryin' on so, 
Bill has been sot agin 'em, and me and neighl)or Boggs, 
and Bill, and these other fellars here to-nis^ht, would come 
here and meet in my barn. Well, we determined to fight 
if they disturbed us; we said fight, and we meant it, 
captain ; there ain't a single Richmond, male or female, 
that won't iight." 

"I believe it," sidd the ca])tain, as he turned his eyes 
to the shotg^un and cartrido-e box ao^ainst the wall. 

o o o 

"Well," continued the old man, "the ^seceshers got 
quite impudent, and as it took some time to gather oar 
band together, they attempted to cut us off singly; but 
we got wind of it, and night after night I got into 
my boat and .went down the rapids to the 'island,' for 



170 SALLIE RICHMOND AND DEVIL BILL. 

safety. One night they came to the house here, I war on 
the island, and Sallie an' the old woman war alone. 
They tried to frighten Sallie, to make her tell whar I war, 
but she got mad, and war for pitchin' in to fight 'em^ sin- 
gle-handed, and so soon after they went away. At length 
Bill, and several of these fellars had to leave 'kase Floyd's 
men war 'round thick, and it war no use to fight then, 
agin so many ; so they took to the brush, and 'riz the 
mountain' back here, on their way to Pinch Gut Creek. 

'' Well, they were gone more'n a month, and we begin to 
git oneasy 'bout 'em. So Sallie said she'd find 'em out, 
and taking a basket of 'pone,' and shouldering her gun, 
and sticking my pistol in her belt, she riz the mountain 
back here and started toward Punch Gut Creek. She 
travelled on until noon, when she came to the creek, 
'bout ten miles from here, I reckon, and hunted up and 
down a good while, every now and then calling for Bill. 
But she couldn't find him, nor ary one of the other fellars, 
but she kept on huntin', and at last she thought she would 
fire off the .pistol. Well, Bill hear'n it, and says he to 
John, thar," and Kichmond pointed to one of the sleeping 
Virginians, " ' there, that's dad's pistol, John ;' and you see 
John had something of a liking for Sallie, so says he to 
Bill, 'and I shouldn't be surprised if it war Sallie, comin' 
out to find us, so just hide in here and I'll holler.' Well, 
he hollored, and Sallie knew the voice mighty q^uick, I 
reckon, and soon found them under a big rock ; after 
sharing among them her ' pone,' and giving them words 
of comfort and cheer, she left them. She left them, and 
came back home that same night 'bout ten, I reckon. 

" Well, after Floyd went away, the bushwhackers were 
worse than ever, but Bill nor me didn't fear 'em. So Bill 
and the boys came back, and the seceshers hearin' on it, I 
reckon, they thought they had a fine chance now to ' rub us 
out.' So they came down to the river at night, intendin' to 
cross over in the mornin' early. But we heard they war 
acomin', and we jest called in all these here boys, and 



SALLIE RICHMOND AND DEVIL BILL. lU 

some other fellers came along, 'kase Floyd had retreated, 
and they wanted to be thought good Union men, for fear 
of you Yankees. So they came too, and we put out some 
of the boys to watch, and slept in the barn all night. 
Well, 'bout daylight, I thought I saw a secesher, on 
t'other side of the river, fixin' a canoe to cross over in ; 
so says I to John, 'Your eyes are young, can you- see ary 
secesher cross the river?' But 'bout that time I seed 
them plain enough myself, so I just ran out round the 
barn to get a good sight on 'em. Well, sir, the whole 
gang let drive at me, and the balls whistled awfully 
against the barn. Bill an' John, and these fellers here, 
came out, and we got a little nearer the seceshers, and 
peppered away at them, shot for shot. But the new fel- 
lers that came down to help us took to the brush and riz 
the mountain. Well, we kept afiring till long after 
breakfast, whenever we could see the shadow of a se- 
cesher on t'other bank. After a while, Sallie put some- 
thin gr for us to eat in a basket, and wound 'round the 
mountain to whar them new fellers war, an-d wanted one 
of 'em to bring it down to us, but nary one would come, 
and Sallie jist threw her shotgun on her shoulder, and 
says she, ' I'll go myself, then, you cowards !' They told 
her she'd get killed if she did, for the balls was jist hailin' 
all over the bottom. But Sallie never minded 'em a bit, 
and came right on ; several shots were fired as she came 
down, but none hit her, and Sallie had the satisfaction to 
see us eat our breakfasts in that old corn crib out thar, 
which we used as a fort; pretty good one, I reckon, 
warn't it, captain ?" 

"Yery good," answered the captain; "were any of vou 
hit?" / 

" Some of the boys got little scratches, but none were 
killed. Sallie was in high dudgeon about them ' new 
fellers,' and we seed she war mad ; so John thar pointed 
out a secesher, cross the river, and she blazed away with 
her shot-gun at him, but I reckon the thing didn't carry 



172 SALLIE RICHMOND AND DEVIL BILL. 

inore'n half way, 'kase you see, captain, 'twere nigh onto 
two hundred yards, I reckon. Well, 'bout noon 'the se- 
ceshers drew off, an' that's the last big time we've had 
down here, captain. The corn-crib was pretty well bat- 
tered with the balls, and the roof looked more like a 'corn 
sieve,' than a 'corn shed.' . 

" Three balls struck the house : here, one Avent through 
right thar," said the old man, pointing to the shivered 
windOw-sash, " and went out through that door thar ; one 
tore that hole in the door cheek thar; and another went 
through and through the puncheon." The old man 
lighted his pipe, and remained silent and thoughtful 
some time. 

" Well, about Bdl," prompted our captain, "you haven't 
told me how he was taken, yet." 

*' Just come to that very point, captain, and now I'll 
tell 3^ou how it all war. Bill were allers a venturesome 
chap, and willin' to "fight anything from a 'cap' down to 
nothin'. So the folks round here got to callin' him 'Devil 
Bill'. I reckon you've hearn of him up to Kaleigh C. H., 
captain." 

"Yes."- ■ 

" Well, thar war a company of Jenkinses Cavalry up 
here at 'Jumpin Branch,' on the road to Pack's lower ferry, 
and last winter they killed tliree of your men who were 
out on a scout, "an' so Bill thought he would jist go up 
thar an' see what they war doin', bein' as how they war 
strangers to him and Avouldn't know him. Well, Bill 
wont up tliar, and stayed round among 'cm a good wliile, 
and then went into the tavern, and sot down in the bar- 
room. Tlie captain war in thar, and he war a blowin' 
'bout the cussed Yankees, and said the Union ^v'ar. all 
smashecVup. Bill couldn't stand that, so lie let the c?l]> 
taiuliave a little piece of his mind on that subject; and 
the captain jumped right up, and, says he, 'Have a care, 
yoimg man, or I'll have you took up !' 

" ' I aint afcarcd of you,' said Bill, ' nor eny other traitor.' 



SALLTE RICHMOND AND DEVIL BILL. 173 

" ' Call me a traitor,' said the captain, coming np to Bill 
with a revolver in his hand ; ' call me a traitor, vou cursed 
liar!' 

" Well, Bill would never take the ' lie,' so he jist up and 
knocked the captain down, and the captain hollered out, 
' Seize him ! seize him ! !' AVell, some feller came in,-then, 
who knowed Bill, and he told them who he war, and thej 
were awfully pleased, I reckon, over the capture of Devil 
Bill. You've hearn of him up thar to Ealeigh C. II., I 
reckon, captain?" 

" Yes ; go on." 

" Well, they kept Bill thar until next day, when they 
started for Newburn, they said, as they let on they 
war takin' him to Eichmond. They made Bill get up 
behind a big Irishman, and three other cavalrymen fol- 
lowed behind. After going two or three-miles the three 
cavalrymen fell back, almost out of sight, and then the 
big Irishman says to Bill, 'Jump down, now, and run 
for life. • I'll shoot towards you, to make them other fel- 
lers believe I shot at you, but I won't hit you.' ]3ut Bill 
•understood the trick. He knew that several of our neigh- 
bors had been killed in that same way, so he said nothin' 
and jist rode on. 

" ' Ain't you goin' to run ?' asked the Irishman. 

"'No, I 'ain't,' said Bill 

" So the Irishman got wrothy, and swore he'd shoot Bill 
if he didn't. Well, Bill kinder let on he war getting off) 
but instead of that he war getting out his long pocket 
knife, and suddenly seizing the Irishman by the hair, he 
drew his head back, and with all his might buried his 
knife iA his throat. The feller struggled awfully, and 
both he and Bill fell from the horse, and in the meantime 
Bill gave him three or four hard stabs. The Irishman 
got up to his feet, and after one wild look, fell dead. 
Well, the other fellers came a galloping up, as fast as they 
could, and Bill just cut the dead Irishman's carbine from 
its straps, and took, to the brush. Well, the cavalrymen * 



1*74 SALLIE RICHMOND AND DEVIL BILL. 

came up and stopped tliar, looking at the dead Irishman. 
Bill war not far off, neither, I reckon. He war just behind 
a big chestnut, but a few feet from the road ; and, waiting 
till he got a good chance, he blazed away with his car- 
bine, and one of the other fellers fell from his horse, and 
the other two started back towards 'Jumping Branch' in 
a desperate hurry, I reckon. "Well, Bill seen that nothing 
more could be done, so he riz the mountain, and come 
'right on to Raleigh C. H. You've seen him thar, I reckon, 
captain ?' 

" Did he kill the last man ?" 
^"No, he war only wounded, and his comrades took 
him away shortly after. But 1 can show you the grave 
of the Irishman to-day. They buried him close to the 
spot whar he war killed, and that war the way Bill war 
taken and got away, captain." 

The old man knocked the ashes from his pipe, coolly 
loaded, lighted, and smoked on as before. His story was 
ended. At length morning came, and with it the news 
that the rebels had crossed the river at some point down 
the stream. The captain then determined to cross over, 
and attack a body of secesh a few miles beyond, at the 
house of one Colonel Henry and under his command. 
Sallie was up betimes, and soon had the breakfast ready. 
About nine the command was taken across the river in 
boats, Sallie assisting in moving the boats. After the 
last man stepped on the shore, Sallie followed. Her shot- 
gun was on her shoulder and the cartridge-box hung at 
her side. 

" Why, Miss Richmond, you ain't going with us, are 
you ?" asked the captain in surprise. 

'•'Indeed I am, captain. I reckon I'd like a shot at 
them fellers, as well as any on you." 

The command moved forward rapidly and with cau- 
tion, making prisoners of every man they met in order 
to prevent the intelligence of their approach reaching the 
enemy. Finally the prisoners accumulated to quite a 



KENTUCK AGAINST KENTUCK. 175 

number, and it was thought advisable to leave them with 
a small guard, while the command, less encumbered, 
could push on more rapidly. The captain requested 
Sallie to remain as a part of the guard, which she con- 
sented to, and faithfully discharged her trust. Col. Henry 
and his followers found it. convenient to retire before the 
Federal troops, and when they entered his dwelling, they 
found the nest yet warm, but the bird had flown. Some 
prisoners were taken, a little more scouting done in the 
neighborhood, and the captain took his troops back to the 
river. Sallie, as before, assisted them over, and welcomed 
them at the house of her father. Shortly after the troops 
took up their march for Raleigh C. H., where they ar- 
rived the evening of the fourth day, very tired, but 
exceedingly well pleased with their scout to Eichmond 
Ferry. 

The captain recommended the young unmarried 
officers of the regiment to visit the ferry, if for no other 
purpose than to see Sallie, and he himself soon made the 
acquaintance of Devil Bill. — Shortly after the return of 
the scouting party, the officers of the 30th sent an invita- 
tion to Sallie to visit Raleigh C. H., and engaged to pre- 
sent her with a revolver, on her arrival, but the regiment 
was almost immediately after ordered on to Princeton, 
and Sallie never made the visit. 



KENTUCK AGAINST KENTUCK. 

« 

In the rebel charge upon McCook's right in the battle 
of Stone River, the rebel Third Kentucky was advancing 
full upon one of the loyal Kentucky regiments. These 
two regiments were brought from the same county, and 
consequently were old friends and neighbors, and now 
about to meet for the first time as enemies. As soon as 
they came near enough for recognition, they mutually 
ceased firing, and began abusing, and cursing, and swear- 



176 THE scout's revenge. 

ing at each other, calling each other the most outlandish 
names; and all this time the battle was roaring around 
them without much attention from either side. It was 
hard to tell which regiment would come oft' the viiitor in 
this wordy battle. As far as I could see, both sides were 
terrible at swearing; but this could not always last; by 
mutual consent they finally ceased cursing, and grasping 
their muskets charged into, each other witlf the most un- 
earthly yell ever^heard on any field of battle. Muskets 
were clubbed, bayonet met bayonet, and in many instan- 
ces, when old feuds made the -belligerents crazy with pas- 
sion, the musket was thrown away, and at it they went, 
pummelling, pulling, and gouging in rough and tumble 
style, and in a manner that any looker-on would consider 
a free fight. The rebels were getting rather the better 
of the fight, when the Twenty-third Kentucky succeeded 
in giving a flanking fire, when they retreated with quite 
a number of prisoneits in their possession. Tlie rebels 
had got fairly under weigh, when the Ninth Oliio came 
tip on the double-quick, and charging on their now dis- 
ordered ranks, succeeded in capturing all their prisoners, 
besides taking in return a great many of the rebels. As 
the late belligerents were conducted to the rear they ap- 
peared to have forgotten their late animosity, and were 
now on the best terms imaginable, laughing, and chatting, 
■ and joking, auvf, as the rebels were well supplied with 
whiskey, the canteens were readily handed about from 
one to the other, until they all became as jolly as possible 
under the circumstances. 



THE SCOUT'S EEYENGE. 

ISTight had settled down upon the army of the Potomac, 
and except in the tent of a general, quiet reigned in the 
camp. The river rolled placidly along, as though no 
hostile forces lined its banks, and Washington looked 



THE scout's revenge. lit 

peaceful, as if no devil were trying to pluck some stars 
from the flag which floated over the Capitol. But the 
measured tramp of the sentinel, and the quick low-toned 
challenge to the straggler hurrying to quarters, told the 
story of the struggle that was going on. 

In the tent of the general, grouped round a small table 
on which were spread maps of the country, sat several 
officers, eagerly discussing a point upon which opinions 
differed. It was an informal council of war, and the of- 
ficer in command, while he listened carefully, refrained 
from giving his judgment in the matter — flattering first 
this one with symptoms of agreement with him, or com- 
plimenting that one on the clearness of his views, while 
he drew from some of the more bashful of the party what 
they thought. 

To none was he more polite than to a young man of 
fine address, whose shoulder-straps claimed for him the 
rank of colonel. Ko greater contrast could be found than 
between the faces of the general and his subordinate. 
Both had keen .eyes, and would be called handsome men 
anywhere; but the features of the elder wore an open, 
manly look, while those of the j^ounger bore a sinister 
cast, that did much to destroy his otherwise good looks. 
The colonel was evidently ill at ease, and though he re- 
turned the polite' attentions of the general as a gentleman 
would, he did not venture to meet the steady gaze that 
accompanied the honeyed words. 

Just at the moment the discussion was at the hottest, the 
sentry announced a messenger. " Show him in," said the 
general, and the man entered with a respectful salute. 
" We will resume this to-morrow, gentlemen," he said, 
bowing to the party, who, taking the hint, immediately 
dispersed to their several quarters. 

" Well, Hardy, what success?" said the general, turning 

to the scout who stood leaning on his rifle. He was well 

worth studying — a tall, lean man, with stooping shoulders, 

a face thin and sallow, with rambling legs, but his eyes 

12 



Its THE scout's revenge. 

glistened as if on fire. His body, nngainlj as it was, 
gave promise of great strength, and tlie long sweep 'of his 
arm, joined to the grasp of his immense hand as he ca- 
ressingly held his weapon to his breast, would have 
warned his foes that it was unsafe to try conclusions A^ith 
him at too close quarters. On every line of his counte- 
nance, marked as it was with inexpressible sadness, were 
written honesty and firmness, so that you felt what he 
said could be trusted. , 

" A leetle, gineral," he said, looking cautiously about. 
"Be we alone?" he added, in an undertone. 

The general stepped to the door of the tent, but nothing 
could be seen except the sentry pacing his usual beat. 
The scout, however, was not satisfied, and walking briskly 
out he approached the rear of the tent, when a hasty foot- 
step was heard retreating. He listened carefully, at the 
same time keeping his trusty rifle ready for use, but the 
footsteps died away in the distance, and he returned to 
the tent. 

" Some drunken soldier. Hardy," said the general, a 
little annoyed at the occurrence. " It shall be looked to 
to-morrow." 

"Maybe so," said the scout, leaning on his rifle, and 
refusing to be seated. " Yit his pace war mighty stiddy 
for a man in liquor." 

" Well, he is gone now, so let us to business," said the 
general, a little testily. 

"Watch D'Arblay, general," said the scout. "He's in 
high favor where I've been to-day, and that ain't no great 
praise for a Union man." 

" Did you reach the village, then ?" asked the general, 
his eyes fixed upon Hardy's face. 

"I was there afore twelve o'clock, and by luck fell in 
with an Alabamy regiment. So, as I was real Yirginny," 
and a mocking smile lit up the sallow face, " I mixed in 
with the boys." 

" You are venturesome, Hardy,", said the other. " If 



THE scout's revenge. , 179 

tTiey catclir-you they will show no mercy. Already your 
name is known the country jround, and a reward offered 
for you."' 

"They can't hurt rrre no worse than they hev, gineral. 
I went by the homestead to-day, and the ashes are thero 
yet. The fire that burned the old place wint into my 
heart, and I ain't afeard of being ketched till my work's 
done." 

" Do they know how strong we are in this place ?" 
asked the general. 

" To a man, gineral. And they're a chuckling might- 
ily over it. 'Tain't no secret at all, and they don't make 
no bones of saying they hev good friends in your camp. 
Did I tell you to watch D'Arblay, gineral?" and the 
scout fingered the lock of his rifle, looking out upon the 
white city which lay before him. 

Suddenly he started and threw himself in the shadow 
of the curtain which hung at the door of the tent. A 
moment he stood so, and then, swiftly bringing his rifle 
to his shoulder, a quick report was heard, and Hardy 
turned to the tent. 

The startled sentry hastened to inquire the cause, but 
the imperturbable old. man carelessly explained that he 
had only fired oft' his load, and, as his eccentricity was 
well ktiown, that ended it. But he bent low and whis- 
pered to the general, " Keep watch on D'Arblay — a close 
watch — gineral," and gave vent to a chuckle that shook 
Lis body till his bones rattled. 

An hour later and the little camp that lay as an out- 
post of the great army was stirring with new life. Ko 
rapid beat to arms roused the sleeping soldiers, but swift 
messengers moved among the white tents, and at their 
summons the men shook slumber from their eyelids, and 
eagerly took their positions in the ranks. 

A secret expedition, and at night — of all things the 
greatest delight of the true soldier—so much was clear ; 
but in what direction, or against what force, none knew ; 



130 THE scout's revenge. • 

yet the ignorance did not check the undisguised pleasure 
of the men, as they promptly obeyed the " fall in" of the 
orderly. It was enough that they were in the enemy's 
country, on soil once sacred, but now desecrated by the 
footsteps of rebellion, and so the blow was effectual, they 
cared not where it fell. 

With the officers it might be a little different, and some 
hastening to the general's tent for instructions were met 
by an aid who gave hasty information for the marshalling 
of the forces. No one was trusted with the secret of the 
movement, and they who persistently sought the com- 
manding officer found at the entrance of his tent only an 
old man, leaning on his rifle. Those who had been at 
the council readily connected the singular individual with 
the present movement; while they, who for the first 
time looked upon his tall form, apparently bent with age 
and infirmity, did not dream that this was the scout whose 
deeds were the theme of conversation about the camp- 
fires, and whose escapes puzzled at once both friend and 
foe. 

Hardy stood watching the gathering of the men Avith a 
grim smile playing about his lips. To the numerous in- 
quiries that poured in upon him he gave no answer save 
that he knew nothing, and the questioner returned no 
wiser than he came. At last everything was ready, and 
the order given to march. Stealthily creeping out among 
the shadows of the night went a little band of fifteen 
hundred men, not one of whom knew where he was 
bound. 

Just as the last company left the camp, the general 
came to the door of his tent, and stretched out his hand 
to the scout. Hardy took it like a man who felt himself 
the peer of an emperor. 

"I have run a great risk. Hardy," he said. "If you 
have deceived me" — he stopped, for even the starlight 
could not hide the pained expression that stole across tlie 
or if you have deceived yourself, the con- 



THE scout's revenge. 181 

sequences may be terrible no less to these brave fellows 
than to me." 

" I hev told you the truth, gineral," he said proudly. 
"We hev fifteen hundred men, and they ain't less than 
four thousand. It mought be a hard fight, but we kin 
git the best of 'em for all that. But ef you've any mis- 
givings, gineral, 'tain't too late yit. It's easy callin' of 
'em back agin, though the boys looked mighty well 
pleased at the chance for a brush ' with the critters.' " 

At this moment there was a halt in the expedition, 
having reached a fork in the road. The general hastily 
wrung the scout's hand, and, as he said, hurriedly, "No, 
no, I trusted you, and will not repent," Hardy returned the 
pressure till the more delicate hand of the officer felt as 
if it were in a vice, and immediately pressed forward to 
the van of the detachment. When' he reached it, the road 
became clear, and at the. command "forward !" the troops 
marched on. 

How fared it with the rebels during these stirring mat- 
ters among their enemies ? Peacefully slumbering among 
the hills, and dreaming of anything but an attack from a 
foe they knew to be so inferior in numbers. They were 
a motley lot. For the most part composed of that class 
known as "poor whites" in the South, strangely clad and 
but half disciplined, they w'ould have dispersed from their 
own internal discord, had not their officers restrained 
them. But the officers were vastly superior to the men. 
Deserters from the Federal army, in which they had found 
both education and subsistence, they turned their talents 
against their country, and gave a* life 'to the rebellion it 
could iLot have had otherwise. 

On this evening, while the men sat smoking about their 
fires, alternately asserting the superiority of their own 
States and cursing the cowardly Yankees, as they 
called all Federal soldiers, in not very choice language, a 
knot of officers were gathered in consultation. 



1S2 THE scout's revenge. 

" Has anything been heard from D'Arblay, to-day ?" 
asked one with a colonel's strap upon his shoulders. 

'* Nothing," said a captain to whom the question was 
addressed. " Our messenger brought a note from him 
yesterday that a council of war would be held to-night. 
We shall have word from him to-morrow." 

" Yes, yes, I saw it," said the colonel. " I hope they 
will resolve to fight. I'm getting tired of this inaction. 
Who is this Hardy he cautions us about ?" 

" One of the enemy's scouts," said the captain. " They . 
tell marvellous tales of him, and even our tents ring with 
his exploits. This very spot was his farm, and yonder 
chimney stack the remains of his house. The man was * 
a Tory, and barely escaped with his life." 

The colonel was thoughtful a moment. " Was this the 

man whose family ? Well, never mind, such things 

must be in war. Keep a lookout for him, and if caught, 
give him short shrift — he may be dangerous." Just then 
the tattoo was beat, and with a courteous good-night the 
officers separated. 

''I wish we could get along without such fellows as 
D'Arblay," said one young officer to another, as they 
strolled along the camp. " I don't mind killing the Yan- 
kees, but I like a little fair play about it. This game of his 
can't last very long, and he'll be coming amongst us." 

" Don't be too nice," said the other. " By and by you'll 
be abusing Burton for this Hardy business. I hear he 
and his Arkansas man did that nice little job." 

" For God's sake, don't talk so," said the other, shud- 
dering. " I have riot heard all, but 'twas a brutal thing." 

" You'll want a dictionary to give an adjective strong 
enough when you do hear it all. They ^ay the old man 
refused to haul down his flag and shot one of our men, 
when they fired his house, and only Hardy escaped. 
Burton stood by and saw it done. The women beaten 
back by the bayonets did not scream, but turned 'hope- 
lessly inward. ' It is a mystery how Hardy got away, but 



THE scout's revenge. 183 

he has been seen since, and lives only for revenge. But, 
as the colonel says, such things must be in war. Good- 
night 1" and they parted at the entrance of a tent. 

While quiet reigns in the rebel camp, the little band 
we have seen set out under the scout's guidance is cau- 
tiously advancing. On through belts of woodland, over 
hills, and across some of the small streams with which 
the country abounds, they marched silently but surely 
on1:heir prey. 

The scout looked like a new man. His tall form was 
no longer bent ; or, rather, it did not appear so, as he . 
strode along at the head of the column. The sallow face 
was lit up with intelligence, and a gleam of ferocity shot 
from his eyes ; the road was as familiar to him as the beaten 
paths about his lost homestead, but he trusted nothing to 
chance, l^t a sound escaped his practised ear, nor an 
unusual appearance the keen scrutiny of his eye, and 
more than once he called a halt, while he reconnoitred 
in the darkness. 

At last they reached the foot of a hill, when Hardy 
whispered to the colonel in- command, and, while the 
troops rested on their arms, he went forward alone. 

Creeping up the ascent, keeping in the shadow of the 
trees, lest even the feeble starlight should reveal his pres- 
ence, he reached the summit and flung himself upon the 
grass. Beneath him lay the white tents of the enemy, 
clustering around the ruins of his homestead. A quick 
glance showed him that no reinforcements had, as yet, 
reached them, and with almost as much pleasure he saw 
their number was not diminished. If any change there 
had been, an increase of the foe would have better suited 
his humor. Not a man less ; for the vengeance that fired 
his heart burned to strike a blow never to be forgotten. 

The out-lying pickets passed close to the spot where 
he lay concealed, and as a surprise was intended, he bent 
his mind to the task of disposing of them. . Lazily walk- 
ing to and fro, peering now and then out into the night, 



184 THE bcout's revenge. 

the rebel sentry thought of his southern home, heerlless 
of the clanger which crouched at his very feet. WitTi 
such men as Hardy, action follows thought as the thunder 
belches from the storm-cloud right over hear], when tlie 
swift lightning cleaves its way to earth ; so quickly does 
the one follow the other, that they seem simultaneous. 

The sentry came forward, humming an air learned in the 
cotton fields of his own native State. A sharp noise, as of 
a footstep on a rotten stick, startled him ; but before he 
could give an alarm or call for help, the hot breath of an 
enemy was upon his cheek and his throat was grasped 
by the sinewy hand of the scout ; the struggle was brief. 
At all times, it was not easy to find Hardy's match, and 
now, standing in sight of his ruined home, the remem- 
brance of his wrongs gave him the ^strength of a giant. 
There was a wild striking out of the arms, a clawing of 
the hands, a blackening of the face, horrible even in the 
starlight, until the knees gave way, and the picket fell a 
lifeless body upon the sward. 

Not a ray of pity, not a pang of regret fell upon the 
heart Of the scout. To him it mattered nothing that this 
picket had done him no harm ; no vision of a southern 
hearth made desolate, or of the long agony he had pre- 
pared for some aching heart because he did not come, 
moved him. Apart from his duty to the little band who 
waited his guidance, the sight of the low chimney stack, 
standing a solitary guardian over the ashes of his home, 
not only strengthened his arm, but repelled all sympathy 
•with the enemy as a weakness to be swiftly trodden under 
foot. To him they were all alike. Did not the flames 
of his hoase light up a strange banner, and did not that 
same banner wave above the encampment so quiet below ? 
All alike, all alike to the man — no, not all ; one stood 
out among the throng. When Burton meets this victim 
of his in the coming struggle, it w^ere well he were shriven 
before the fi^ht, for Hardy has a special vow of vengeance 
against him, and will execute it at all risks. 



THE scout's revenge. 185 

The Bcout carefully drew the body of the poor wretch 
out of tlie path, and seizing his musket, while he put his 
trusty rifle in a safe place, boldly took up the dead man's 
beat. Time was flying fast; the morning would soon 
break, and he must needs hurry his movements ; so, taking 
as near as possible the gait of the picket he had slain, he 
walked towards his comrade. The darkness of the night 
favored his disguise, and the other met him without sus- 
picion. Hardy clutched at him with his left hand, while 
he made a swift movement with his right. There was a 
gurgling in the throat, a tide of warm blood gushed out, 
and formed a pool at his feet, and the second picket had 
started on his last journey. 

So far, the way was clear. What obstruction might 
be upon the hillside he did not know nor care; once get 
the men upon the summit unobserved, and all was sate. 
Turning hastily, stopping only to pick up his rifle and 
listen, lest the struggles in which he had been engaged 
should have disturbed the quiet of the camp, he passed 
with quick steps down the slope, and put himself by the 
colonel's side at the head of the detachment. 

The men lost all sense of weariness as they advanced 
"lip the hill. But for the order for perfect silence, they 
would have given cheer upon cheer, so eager were they 
for the fray ; as it was, they pushed on vigorously, drag- 
ging the mountain howitzers which accompanied their 
march as easily as though they were some child's toys 
they handled, and very soon reached the top of the ascent. 
Here resting for a moment, to gather breath, and find 
proper positions for their " bull-dogs," as they called the 
howitzers, the little band nerved themselves for the work 
before them. 

The gray dawn was already breaking in the east, pal- 
ing the stars nearest the horizon, as Hardy pointed out 
to the colonel the arrangements of the enemy. 

" You kin take 'em front, kurnel, and your chance is 



186 THE scout's revenge. 

main good ; but I s'pose you'll make it surer by flanking 
the devils," hinting rather than advising the movement. 

" See," he continued, pointing with his long, bony fin- 
gers, " there's the boys from South Car'lina right oppo- 
site • the Arkansaw men lie by yon chimney stack. Ef 
I mought, I'd ask a favor before the fighting begins," 
said the scout, hesitatingly. 

" Speak it freely, Hardy," said the colonel kindly, with 
an anxious look, the while, at the brightening east. 

" 'Tain't a long one," said Hardy, who had canght the 
movement of the colonel's eye, " and the boys '11 be better 
for getting their wind. You know, mebbe, I had a home 
about here ?" 

The colonel nodded assent. Something in the scout's 
face made words needless. 

" This was my farm, and that chimney yonder all that's 
left of the old house. Don't be afraid, kurnel. I ain't 
a going to tell a long story. Not that it's going to be for- 
gotten, but I shan't talk about it. I'm satisfied if we only 
clean out that hornets' nest down thar, and I thought, 
seein' as I know the old place so well, I could pilot a 
couple of hundred so as to take 'em behind." 

"You shall have them, Hardy," said the colonel, send- 
ing an aid at once with orders for detailing the necessary 
number. 

The scont looked on with eager eyes. "And now, 
kurnel," he said, baring his head, and pushing back the 
thin hair which straggled over his forehead, stretching 
out his hand, at the same time, to the officer, '' I mought. 
as well say, ' good-by.' My work's most done, and ef I 
don't come out of this skrimmage, tell the gineral how 
glad I am he trusted me this once. You're goin' to flax 
'em out, kurnel, and the quicker the better, for mornin's 
comin' on," and he wrung his hand with a will. 

Hardy led his two hundred men quickly away along 
the top of the hill, till he reached a deep gorge, now dry, 
but in the rainy season the bed of a hillside stream, which 



^ THE scout's revenge. 18t 

foamed and fretted in its course as though no stop could 
be put to its ravages. In this they turned, and, trusting 
to the morning gloom, made their way to the back of the 
camp. 

The main body felt their way down the hillside. It 
was not exactly the place for company movements, and 
a drill-sergeant would hardly have approved the irregu- 
larity of their march; but the men grasped their pieces 
in fighting humor, and welcomed the coming struggle as 
eagerly as does the maiden her first ball. 

About half the distance towards the camp had been 
passed over when a sentry discovered the advancing rank, 
and, firing his piece to give the alarm, fled hastily to the 
camp. There was no time to lose ; silence was no longer 
observed. The commands ^of the officers rang out on 
the morning air, and, at the word, the men rushed upon 
the enemy. Down the hill, along the open space, where 
the rebel soldiery were wont to drill, they broke over 
the slight entrenchment with a yell of delight, and a 
fierce hand-to-hand encounter began. 

Struggling among the white tents the rebel soldiery 
rushed to their arms, half-clad, while a few hundred 
gathered to the right of the camp, only to be dispersed 
by shell from the howitzers, which fell among their ranks. 
There was nothing for it but a retreat, and the beaten 
and scattered forces huddled together in the rear of the 
camp, where a new danger met them. 

Hardy and his men came upon the field with a ringing 
cheer, and dashed into the fight. The scout's duty was 
done, and as he neither knew nor cared anything for 
military movements, he fought mainly by himself. A 
frenzy possessed him ; his eyes glared like a demon's, 
and his whole frame was animated wi^h supernatural 
energy. Clubbing his rifle, he rushed albng the narrow 
alleys of the camp, heedless of the knot of soldiers who 
slunk away at his coming, or vainly attempted to stop 



] 88 THE scout's revenge. 

his progress, till be reached the encampment of the Arkan- 
sas men. 

A fierce struggle was in progress, and Barton, at the 
head of the backwoodsmen, was making a desperate 
stand. A shout broke from the lips of the scout, and in 
a moment he was in the middle of it. His long rifle, 
swung by his powerful army mowed a lane for him, and 
he pressed on till he stood in the presence of Burton 
himself. 

The Arkansas leader was no coward, and the defence 
had been a desperate one ; but he trembled when he saw 
Hardy facing him. He had seen him once before, when 
the white head and stern face was lit up by the burning 
dwelling. Even Burton, the gambler, the duellist, the 
bully, could not shut his soul up from dreams, and the 
face of the avenger had grown familiar even in his slum- 
bers. Instinctively he drew his bowie-knife from its 
sheath, and the scout, feeling for the keen weapon he 
carried in his belt, dropped his rifle, and stood face to 
face with his great enemy. 

There was no cry for quarter, and both were soon 
locked in fearful strife. A few rapid passes of their 
bright blades, and the Arkansas colonel threw "up his 
arms with a sullen moan, and muttering a ^urse, fell a 
corpse at the feet of the scout. 

When the battle was over, Hardy was found leaning 
against the ruined chimney, the pallor of death spread 
over his face, while the body of the rebel chief lay a few 
feet from him. 

"You are not badly hurt, I hope," said the colonel, 
kindly ; " what can I do for you ?" 

" Water," he gasped ; and on taking some from a can- 
teen, he revived a little. " My work's done, kurnel," he 
said, faintly, " and it's about time. There ain't no use in 
a dead stick, and the green branches are all gone. Ef you 
wdl, kurnel, tell the gineral I died upder the old chimney, 
and that I sent the Arkansas chief to say I was comin'." 



WHY THE LIEUTENANT ATE THE PIE. ' 189 

V 

A grim Bmile passed over his face, which faded as his 
listeners stood by. 

" Take some more water, Hardy," said one, but he did 
not answer. The coh)nel took his hatid, but no pressure 
came from the sinewy fingers. A slight shiver passed 
through his frame, and the scout was dead. 

The victory was complete. A short time was spent 
burying the slain, and, laden with spoils, the conquerors 
returned to their camp. When they reached it, tbey 
learned that DArblay had been shot by the accidental 
discharge of a musket the night before. Only the general 
knew the truth. 

The despatches that found their way to the papers were 
very brief. There had been a night recomioissance, and a 
rebel camp broken up, with great loss to the enemy. 
Plardy's name was not mentioned ; but few who were in 
the expedition will Ibr^^et the tall form or underestimate 
the services of the scout. 



WHY THE LIEUTENANT ATE THE PIE. 

Gen. Grant, the hero and veteran, who was citizen, 
captain, colonel, brigadier-general, and major general 
within the space of nine months, although a rigid discipli- 
narian and a perfect Ironsides in the discharge of his 
official duties, can enjoy a good joke, and is always ready 
to perpetrate one when an opportunity presents. Indeerl, 
among his acquaintances he is as much renowned for hi^ 
eccentric humor as he is for his skill and bravery as a 
commander. 

When Grant was a brigadier in southeast Missouri, he 
commanded an expedition against the rebels under Jefi"'. 
Thompson, in northern Arkansas. The supposed ren- 
dezvous of the rebels was about one hundred and ten 
miles, and the greater portion of the route lay through a 
howling wilderness. The imaginary sullering that our 



190 WHY THE LIEUTENANT ATE THE PIE. 

soldiers endured during the first two days of their march 
.was enormous. It was impossible to steal or "confiscate'' 
■uncultivated real estate, and not a hog, or a chicken, or 
an ear of corn was anywhere to be seen. On the third 
day, however, affairs looked more hopeful, for a few small 
specks of ground, in a state of partial cultivation, were 
Jiere and there visible. On that day, Lieutenant W., of 
an Indiana cavalry regiment, commanded the advance- 
guard, consisting of eight mounted men. About noon he 
came up to a small farm-house, from the outward appear- 
ance of which he judged that there might be something 
fit to . eat inside. He halted Iris company, dismounted, 
and with two second lieutenants entered the dwelling. 
He knew that Grant's incipient fame had already gone 
out through all that country, and it occurred to him that 
by representing himself to be the general he might obtain 
the best the house afforded. So a-ssuming a very impera- 
tive demeanor, he accosted the inmates of the house, and 
told them he must have something for himself and staff 
to eat. They desired, to know who he was, and he told 
them'that he was Brigadier-General Grant. At the sound 
of that name they flew around with alarming alacrity, 
and served up about all they had in the house, taking 
great pains all the while to make loud professions of 
loyalty. The lieutenants ate as much as they could of the 
not over sumptuous meal, but which was, nevertheh ss, 
good for that country, and demanded what was to pay. 
"Nothing." And they went on their way rejoicing. 

In the meantime General Grant, who had halted his 
army a few miles further back, for a brief resting spell, 
came in sight of, and was rather favorably impressed with, 
the appearance of this same house. Eiding up to the 
fence in front of the door, he desired to know if they 
would cook him a meal. 

" No !" said a female, in a gruff* voice ; " General Grant 
and his staff have just been here and eaten everything in 
the house except one pumpkin pie." 



A GALLANT LAD. 191 

'•'HumpV' murmured Grant; "what is your name?" 

"Selvidge," replied the woman. 

Casting a half-dollar in at the door, he asked if she 
would keep the pie till he sent an officer for it, to which 
she replied that she would. 

That evening, after the camping-ground had been se- 
lected, the various regiments were notified that there 
would be a grand parade at half-past six for orders. Of- 
ficers would see that their men all turned out, etc. 

In five minutes the camp was in a perfect uproar, and 
filled with all sorts of rumors ; some thought the enemy 
were upon them, it bein-g so unusual to have parades 
when on a march. 

At half-past six. the parade was formed, ten columns 
deep, and nearly a quarter of a mile in length. 

After the usual routine of ceremonies the acting assist- 
ant adjutant-general read the following order: — 

Headquarters Army m the Field. Special 

Order, No. . Lieutenant W., of the Indiana 

Cavalry, having on this day eaten everything in Mrs. 
Selvidge's house, at the crossing of the Ironton and Po- 
cahontas and Black Kiver and Cape Girardeau Eoads, 
except' one pumpkin pie, the said Lieutenant W. is here- 
by ordered to return with an escort of one hundred ca- 
valry and eat that pie also. — U. S- Grant, Brigadier- 
General Commanding. 

Grant's orders were law, and no soldier ever attempted 
to evade them. At seven o'clock the lieutenant filed out 
of camp with his hundred men, amid the cheers of the 
entire army. The escort concurred » in stating that he 
devoured the whole of the pie, and seemed to relish it. 



A GALLAOT LAD. 

Captain Boggs, of the Yaruna, tells a story of a brave 
boy who was on board his vessel during the bombard- 



192 ON THE CUMBERLAND. 

ment of the forts on the Mississippi Eiver. The lad, 
who answers to the name of Oscar, was but thirteen years 
oT age but he has an old head on his shoulders, and is 
alert and energetic. During the hottest of the fire he 
was busily engaged in passing ammunition to the gun- 
ners, and .narrowly escaped death when one of the terrific 
broadsides of the Yaruna's rebel antagonist was poured 
in. Covered with dirt and begrimed with powder, he was 
met by Captain Boggs, who asked ''where he was going 
in such a hurry?" 

"To get a passing-box, sir; tbe other one was smashed 
by a ball !" And so, throughout the fight, the brave lad 
held his place and did his duty. 

When the Varuna went down, Captain Boggs missed 
his boy, and thought he was among the victims of the 
battle. But a few minutes afterwards he saw the lad 
gallantly swimming towards the wreck. Clambering on 
board of Captain Boggs's boat, he threw his hand up to 
his forehead, giving the usual salute, and uttering only 
the words, "All right, sir! I report myself on board," 
})assed coolly to his station. 



0^ THE OUMBEELAm. 

Two of the gunners at the bow-guns of the Cumber- 
land, when the ship was sinking, clasped their guns in 
their arms, and would not be removed, and went down 
embracing them. One gunner had both his legs shot 
away; but he made three steps on his bloody thighs, 
seized the hanyard and fired his gun, falling back dead. 
Another lost both arms and legs, yet lived; and when 
they would assist him, cried out, "Back to your guns, 
boys! Give 'em fits! Hurrah for the flag!" lie lived 
till she sank. 



A CHAT ABOUT STONE RIVER. 103 



A CHAT ABOUT STONE EIVER. 

There was rare comedy commingled with the tragedy 
at Stone Eiver. The humorism of battle saturates you 
after carnage is ended. The richest of the drollery and 
fun is not printable. But we can roar over it in bivouac. 
Suppose we have a chapter of incidents. One of the good 
things was Irish, of course. 

An Irish rebel of the 1st Louisiana, who had charged 
too far into our front, was coming out of the fight a cap- 
tive, with a broken arm. A surgeon had dressed it 
temporarily. 

^^You an Irishman and a rebel," quoth I; "what are 
you fighting us for?" 

" Sure, your honor," swiftly retorted Pat, " an' did ye 
ever hear uv the likes of an army, an' there wasn''t Irish- 
men in it ?" 

''But Pat," interposed Father Trecy, "you were forced 
into the service." 

" Yer riverence," replied Pat, respectfully saluting, " I 
went into it with a good will. The boys was all goin' ; 
there was a fight, an' sure Patrick wasn't the man to lit 
inny man go furninst him." Pat was an incorrigible, 
and we let him go. 

A cluster of mangled fellows were huddled about a 
field hospital, waiting surgical attention. A big brawny 
trooper, with a bullet in his left leg and another in his 
right arm, hobbled up, holding his wounded arm in his 
left hand. "By G — d, doctor," said he, with much less 
piety than pain, " the d — d rebs came pretty near hittin' 
me." 

Another fellow, blowing blood copiously from his nose 
— the point of which had been shot off — as a whale spouts 
sea water, interposed: "The d — d rascals" — sputter — 
"come d — d near" — another sputter — "'missin^ me." 

An Irish soldier being hit, turned to his officer, patheti- 
13 



194 A CHAT ABOUT STONE RIVER. 

cally exclaiming, " Lieutenant, sliure an' I'm hit !" "What 
the d — 1 are you doing there, then ?" responded the lieu- 
tenant, taking Pat by the collar and ejecting him from 
the ranks. " Get out of that and give a better man your 
place." 

The general commanding displayed a ' distressing 
faculty for keeping in hot places. After several casual- 
ties to the stafit; and while missiles were flying about 
promiscuously, one of his aids modestly asked him, " Do 
you think it right to expose your life so, sir ?" The gen- 
eral replied by dashing into a hotter place to correct an 
alignment and regulate a battery which was firing rather 
recklessly. He was suddenly checked by a regiment 
drawn across the field. The men were down on their 
bellies, and several rebel batteries were flinging shot and 
shell all around them. The general thought it a good 
opportunity to make a speech to them. Although a fine 
talker, he is not a finished orator. But he jerks out sen- 
tences that are not easily misunderstood. The battle-field, 
the orator, and the audience presented a singular specta- 
cle. When the general addressed the men, each elevated 
his head from the ground, turning his face towards the 
commander. , 

" Men," said he, " do you want to know how to be safe ? 
If you do, shoot low. Fire at their shins. .But do you 
want to know how to be safest of all? I'll tell you. 
Give them a blizzard right at their shins at short range, 
and then let them have the bayonet. Give them the 
bayonet, I say!" The general thinks a "blizzard" at 
short range a very good thing. 

Lieut. Willie Porter, of the general's stajff, a promising 
youth of eighteen or nineteen summers, amused us by his 
sang froid. When he mounted in the morning, he filled 
the general's haversack with luncheon, and threw it over 
his own shoulder. During the day a shell exploded in 
the midst of the staff. A fragment of it struck between 
Porter's side and the haversack, bruising him severely, 



WHAT IT COST TO BE LOTAL. 195 

and tearing open the haversack. The luncheon tumbled 
to the ground. " There," said Porter, with a droll grim- 
ace, unmindful of his own narrow escape, " all the dinner 
is gone." 



THE WRONG LEG. 

A lieutenant of the First North Carolina regiment, who 
had lost a leg in an engagement in North Carolina, and 
who had supplied its place with an artificial member, 
consisting of a stout oaken peg, was present at the fight 
at Olustee, Fla., and while the battle was as warm as one 
would care to experience it, a rebel sharpshooter put a bul- 
let through his trowsers leg and through his wooden peg. 
He felt the blow, but escaped the twinge of pain that gene^ 
rally accompanies the passage of a bullet through genuine 
flesh and muscle, and enjoying a keen sense of the ludi- 
crous, he forgot the battle and its dangers, and gave way 
to the heartiest and most explosive laughter. He pushed 
along the line, and approached the colonel, to whom, after 
a severe effort, he was able to communicate the cause of 
his mirth. Almost convulsed with laughter, he exclaimed : 
"Colonel! by George! the d — d rebels have shot me 
through the wooden leg ! Ha ! ha ! Devilish good joke 
on the fellows 1" and he hobbled back to his position in 
the line. 



WHAT IT COST TO BE LOYAL. 

At the outbreak of the rebellion. Widow W. lived 
in the White River country, Mo. — a land of hills and of 
ignorance. In that country she and her family stood 
almost alone upon the side of the National Union. Her 
neighbors were advocates of the rebellion, and even before 
the arrival of the army in Springfield, all loyal citizens 



196 WHAT IT COST TO BE LOYAL. 

were warned tliat they must leave their homes or die. It 
was little that the poor widow had to leave — a miserable 
log-cabia and a small patch of hillside — but such as it was, 
she was preparing to abandon it, when her son Harvey 
left her, in search of employment. She packed his bun- 
dle with a heavy heart, took a silk handkerchief from 
her neck, gave it to him, and kissed him good by, never 
expecting to see him again. 

He had not been gone many days when her persecution 
began. Her little boy was one evening bringing in wood 
for the fire, when a shot was heard — a bullet struck the 
log under his arm, and he dropped it with a scream. 
The ball had just missed his heart. Joy at his escape 
from death was henceforth mingled with gloomy appre- 
hension. 

Next she heard of the death of Harvey. He had found 
a home, and fancying himself secure, wa^ alone at work 
in the field. The family with whom he lived were ab- 
sent. When they returned at noon they found his dead 
body in the house, pierced by a bullet. His torn cap 
and other signs witnessed to the severity of his- struggle 
before he yielded to his murderer. 

From this time the family of Mrs. W". lived in constant 
fear. One day a gun was fired at them as they sat at 
dinner. Often they saw men prowling about with guns, 
looking for the young men. One man was bold enough to 
come into the cabin in search of them. At night they 
all hid 'in the woods, and slept. The poor woman was 
one day gathering corn in the garden, and William was 
sitting upon the fence. 

"Don't sit there, William," said his mother, "you are 
too fair a mark for a shot." 

William went to the door and sat upon the step. 

" William," said his sister, " you are not safe ihere. 
Come into the house." 

He obeyed. He was sitting between two beds, when 



WHAT IT COST TO BE LOYAL. 19T 

suddenly another sliot rang npon the air, and the widow's 
second son, Samuel, whom she had not noticed sitting by 
another door, rose to his feet, staggered a few steps toward 
his mother, and fell a corpse before her. 

"I never wished any one in torment before," she said, 
^* but I did wish the man that killed him was there." 

Her three oldest sons at once left the cabin and fled 
over the hills. They were all afterwards in the National 
array. Samuel's sister washed the cold clay and dressed 
it for the grave. After two days the secession neighbors 
came to bury him. At first the frantic m^other refused to 
let them touch his body. At last she consented. The 
clods were falling upon the coffin, each sound awakening 
an echo in her heart, when. a whip-poor-will fluttered 
down with its wild melancjjoly cry, and settled in the 
open grave. The note so terrified the conscience-stricken, 
superstitious wretches, that for a moment they fled in dis- 
may. 

Two of her children were now in the tomb. Three 
had escaped for their lives. The unhappy woman was 
left with' her two daughters and three small children, 
helpless and alone. She was obliged to go thirty miles 
upon horseback to mill for food, and afterwards to return 
on foot, leading her horse by the bridle, with the sack of 
meal upon his back. On her return she met her children, 
about a mile' and a half from her own house. In her neigh- 
bor's yard her two boys, aged ten and twelve years, were 
digging another grave — the grave of an old man, mur- 
dered in her absence for the crime of loyalty to the Union. 
Together with a white-headed patriot, who tottered with- 
age, they placed the corpse upon a board, rolled it, unpre- 
pared for burial and uncoffined, into the shallow pit, and 
then covered it with earth. Such are the trials of loyal 
citizens in the border slave States, and wherever rebel- 
lion has been in power. 

The widow now escaped for refuge to St. Louis. And 
there, to crown her sorrows in the absence of her three 



198 A DESPERATE HAND-TO-HAND CONTEST. 

oldest remaining sons, a drunken soldier. of the Fifth 
Kansas Eegiment shot her daughter Mary, as she was 
standing in the door of her house. 



A DESPERATE HATO-TO-HAND CONTEST. 

Two Minnesota boys once took it into their heads to 
forage a little for amusement as well as eatables. Striking 
out from their encampment into the forest, they followed 
a narrow road some distance, until, turning a bend, five* 
Secession pickets appeared not fifty yards distant. The 
parties discovered each other simultaneously, and at once 
levelled their rifles and fired. Two of the Confederates 
fell dead, and one of the Minnesotians, the other also fall- 
ing, however, but with the design of trapping the other 
three, who at once came up, as they said, to " examine the 
d— — d Yankees." 

Drawing his revolver, the Minnesotian found he had 
but two barrels loaded, and with these he shot two of the 
pickets. Springing to his feet, he snatched his sabre 
bayonet from his rifle, and lunged at the survivor, who 
proved to be a stalwart lieutenant, armed only with a 
heavy sword. The superior skill of the Southron was 
taxed to the utmost in parrying the vigorous thrusts and 
lunges of the brawny lumberman, and for several min- 
•Utes the contest waged in silence, broken only by the 
rustle of the long grass by the roadside, and the clash of 
their weapons. Feigning fatigue, the Minnesotian fell 
back a few steps, and as his adversary closed upon him 
with a cat-like "spring, he let his sabre come down on the 
head of Secesh, and the game was up. Collecting the 
arms of the Secessionists, he returned to the camp, where 
he obtained assistance, and buried the bodies of his com- 
panicn and their foes in. one grave. 



KILLED IN ACTION. 199 



riSTS AGAINST MUSKETS. 

During the retreat from Bull Bun a large bony back- 
woodsman from Michigan remained behind to assist a 
wounded comrade, and was surrounded by four Seces- 
sionists. Throwing aside his musket, the Michigander 
exclaimed — 

" You darn ation scoundrels! I can lick you without 
my shooting iron." 

And suiting, the action to the word, Jonathan 'went 
in " by planting his burly fists between the eyes of one 
of the enemy, knocking him over. One more stroke, well 
aimed, laid the second in the dust, while the third received 
a stunner upon the proboscis which made him kiss the 
earth ; and probably the fourth would have met a similar 
fate had he not, with the butt of his gun, knocked Jona- 
than over. The gallant Michigander was stunned by the 
blow, when his capture was easily accomplished. 



KILLED IN ACTION. 

It was the day of Cedar Mountain. Crawford had such 
scanty numbers that the cavalry was formed as a first 
line of battle, supporting the advance batteries. The 
audacity of the movement seemed to puzzle the enemy ; 
for, instead of pushing us hard and driving back our 
feeble force, the whole morning was spent in slowly feel- 
ing their way into position, only now and then pitching 
a few harmless shell in our direction. Besides, they had 
about as good ground to fight on where they were as 
they could find further on; and they were probably 
ignorant what forces we might have upon their flanks. 
From sunrise until half past three in the afternoon we 
stood there wearily, only moving by squadrons to water 
and detaching carbineers as skirmishers. Across the 



200 KILLED IN ACTION. 

fields, wLicli rose in graceful undulations, we could faintly 
discern the columns of rebel cavalry and infantry moving 
from wood to wood, in the direction of our left. We 
were so placed that we conld see nothing but the rebels, 
the Khode Island Cavalry formed near us, and one battery 
in sections on the rise of the hill behind us. 

At three o'clock we had gathered some oats and wheat 
harvested in the adjoining field, and were feeding them 
to our horses in addition to the corn-blades among wliicli 
we stood, when tlie rebel batteries were moved by hand 
over the brow of the hill in front, and opened upon u.-i 
with great rapidity of fire and accuracy of aim. Our 
skirmishers in the meantime were sharply engaged 
with theirs; and, notwithstanding their disadvantage in 
being mounted and having merely the short carbine, did 
considerable execution, losing only one horse. They 
kept their enemy nervously making little rushes forward 
as they fired, and falling back to load, so that the rebels 
began to fire wilder and wilder. At last there was an 
advance in force, and they opened with grape upon this 
scattered line. Our men came back like a whirlwind, 
completely obscured by dust, and fell into their places 
in the ranks. Now the battery which our regiment was 
supporting began to show its brilliant qualities. I think 
that it was L battery, First New York Artillery, but am 
not positive. Its sections, one above the other, either 
concentrated their fire or distributed it as circumstances 
required ; and from the first shot to the last almost every 
missile did its duty. An of&cer of ours, who was out 
with skirmishers on our right, was so placed that he could 
see the effects of the fire on a brigade who were lying 
behind a hill waiting to charge upon the battery. For 
a few seconds they lay under the fire. Tliose few seconds 
cost them thirty men ; and as they sprang up to run awny 
they were swept even more fearfully. The force broke, 
and was not, I believe, re-formed during the engagemeut. 

While the battery was doing its work we were doing 



KILLED IN ACTION. 201 

ours — the unpleasantest duty that can be imposed. We 
liad to sit in our saddles, motionless and helpless, exposed 
to a tremeudous fire, and unable to return a shot. Out 
&i the woods in our front the sharpshooters of the rebel 
brigade had been sent to "disperse that cavalry J^ Fortu- 
nately for us our lieutenant-colonel was an old soldier, 
and had chosen our place as none but an old soldier would. 
The corn-field was, as I have said, full of little undula- 
tions. Just in front of us was a hollow, and beyond it a 
rising ground. If we had been in the hollow, though 
covered from the sharpshooters, we should have been 
raked by the artillery ; and the hilltop was of course bad. 
So we stood to the rear of the hollow, on the rise of the 
hill ; so that those in front, unconscious of this wide de- 
pression, must have thought us so much nearer to them, 
and have regulated their aim accordingly. This I 
imagine to have been the case, for a perfect storm of 
bullets swept across the brow of the hill, and struck up 
the dust at our horses' feet. Simultaneously balls come 
whirring through the air just above our heads, causing a 
shock to the nerves similar to that occasioned by a covey 
of quail starting from beneath our feet, and causing a 
good many of the men to dodge and twist a little in their 
saddles. I was remarking this fact indignantly to the 
major, when, "Nonsense!" was his reply. "Why, I 
dodge myself!" of which he immediately gave an illus- 
tration. I looked around, and there were General Banks 
and his statf also bending gracefully to and fro. I there- 
fore concluded that the. fire was regarded as hot and 
heavy. \ 

" Steady in the first squadron ! Steadj^ there, I say ! 
AYliat are you about ?" sang out the major's cleat, stern, 
voice; 

As he moved to check an apparent confusion, a man 
made his way out of the ranks — a little pale, perhaps, 
but otherwise as usual. 

" What are you doing leaving the ranks, sir ?" 



202 KILLED IN ACTION. 

" The man saluted bim quietly, and answered " Hit, 
sir." He bad a " pretty" sharp clip from a rifle-ball. 

"Go to the rear and get dressed," said the major. 

The line was dressed again without need of commands, 
and there we stood again as- calmly as ever under fire. 
But now the men began to' sufl'er, and the horses espe- 
cially had been struck several times. The battery had 
dismounted a gun which had been run up to the sharp- 
shooters, to open on us with canister, but the rifle-balls 
and the shell were becoming more and more accurate in 
their aim. Bayard turned and spoke to Banks. We 
heard the Major-general answer, ''They stand it like 
veterans. I shall myself show these their new position 
when I move them." Presently the order came, "Pla- 
toons, right about wheel !" and at a walk, without break- 
ing a rank, we steadily moved back, crossing the exposed 
hill-top and descending on the other side, where we again 
formed. But now our whole first line was falling back 
upon Banks's corps, which had been formed as it had 
come up behind us ; and the enemy had succeeded in 
planting a battery upon Cedar Mountain, which com- 
pletely enfiladed our position. Over the brow of the hill 
and from the left flank, the shriek of the shell thrilled our 
ears, and all along the line they burst with a sound that, 
once heard, can never be forgotten. 

The battery — one piece dismounted and half the horses 
killed — limbered up and moved off. Taking down the 
fence in our rear and that into the road at our right, the 
regiment again made an about, and retired a second time 
in line. That was the mo^ trying time of all that day. 
The enemy's range was perfect, and with every discharge 
each man wondered how h'e had escaped. The apprehen- 
sion of immediate death was strong in every soul, and 
yet the line moved over that uneven ground better than 
it could have done on drill. Not ati attempt was made 
to break ranks or to straggle, even when comrades went 
down on either hand. Oh ! how proud we were of the 



KILLED IN ACTION. 203 

men, and how cheerfully and confidently all the officers 
ever after gave their orders, certain that they would be 
obeyed ! 

As the chaplain, who had occasionally been riding 
along the ranks, endeavoring to cheer the men, while his 
services were not yet required in the hospital, turned 
from helping to clear away the fence, a man from the left 
came by, leading two of three horses. 

" Where are you going from the field ?" 

" It's the lieutenant, sir. A shell has struck him, and 
the boys are carrying him, while I take the horses." 

"Who? Not A ?" ejaculated the chaplain 

anxiously. 

" Yes, sir. Here he comes." 

And there lay the poor boy, almost a child in look, 
and a sort of pet among officers and men, pale and stunned, 
in the arms of some of his platoon, his right leg nearly 
severed from his body. The crushed and torn muscles 
showed among them the broken bone, and the blood 
droJ)ped slowly to the ground, mingling with the dust. 
To get him into an ambulance and drive back to the hos- 
pital seemed fearfully long for all ; and I think that the 
men felt every jolt almost as sharply as did he. Behind 
a wood was spread out the ghastly apparatus of military 
surgery, and the poor boy was removed as quickly as 
circumstances would permit to the neighborhood of the 
table. As he lay in the chaplain's arms he seemed to re- 
cognize the voice that spoke to him, and with the gasp- 
ings of a dying man he whispered — 

*' Oh, chaplain, if I could only pray I" 

••' Shall I pray for you ?" 

"Yes." 

And the chaplain put np those exquisite petitions in 
the Episcopal service for the visitation of the sick. 

A -s lips moved as if he were following the words 

of the petition to the very end. Then he was lifted on 
the table, the sponge of chloroform applied, and the 



204 DRAWING RATIONS. 

ghnstly work of amputation performed. He never reco- 
vered from the shock. His mind wandered ag^ain to the 
action, and he uttered words of command to his men. 
At last, with a feeble motion of the hand, he made an 
effort to ejaculate "Star-spangled banner!" These were 
his last words. The shells of the enemy came plunging 
through the wood, and struck against the fence "behind 

which our hospital was established. A was placed 

in an ambulance, beside B , who had been hit al- 
most at the same moment ; and the whole establishment 
moved back to a house in the rear. Scarcely had he been 
removed from the vehicle when he' quietly breathed his 
last. He lies buried in. Culpepper, in the southwest 

corner of our military graveyard, while his cousin H ■ 

sleeps at Harrisonburg, awaiting the same general resur- 
rection. 



DEAWIIsra EATIOIJS. 

There are some episodes in the life of a soldier pro- 
vocative of laughter, and that serve to disperse, in some 
measure, the ennui of camp life. A farmer, who did not 
reside so far from a camp of the " boys" as he wished he 
did, was accustomed to find every morning that several 
rows of potatoes had disappeared from the field. He bore 
it some time, but when the last half of his field of fine 
"kidneys" began to disappear, he began to think that 
sort of thing had gone far enough, and determined to stop 
it. Accordingly he made a visit to camp early next 
morning, aod amused himself by going round to see 
whether the soldiers were provided with good and whole- 
some provisions. He had not proceeded far when he 
found a "boy"' just serving up a fine dish of "kidneys," 
which looked marvellously like those that the gude wife 
brought to hig own table. Halting, the following collo- 
quy ensued : — 



hadn't heard op the war. 205 

" Hfive fine potatoes here, I gee." 

'* Splendid !" was the repl}^. 

" Where do you get them?" ^ 

" Draw them." 

" Does government furnish potatoes in your rations ?" 

"Nary potato." 

" I thought you said you drew them." 

" Did ! we just do that thing !" 

" But how, if they are not included in your rations ?" 

"Easiest thing in the world ! Won't you take some 
"wdth us ?" said the soldier, as he seated himself at the ta- 
ble opposite the smoking vegetables. 

"Thank you. But Avill you oblige me by telling how 
you draw your potatoes, as they are not found by the 
commissary?" 

" Nothing easier. Draw ''em hy the tops, mostly I Some- 
times by a hoe, if one is left in the field." 

" Hum ! Yes ! I understand ! Well, see here, if you 
won't draw any more of mine, I will bring you a basket 
every morning, and draw them myself." 

" Bully for you, old fellow !" was the cry, and three 
cheers and a tiger were given for the farmer. The cove- 
nant was entered into, and no one but the owner drew 
potatoes from that field afterward. 



HADN'T HEAED OF THE WAR. 

After Western Virginia had been for some months the 
theatre of active operations, a scout going out through 
the woods near Elkwater, on picket duty, accidentally 
espied, away in a dark ravine, a little log hut. Antici- 
pating a hearty meal, he rode up to the house, and an old 
woman, with a face like a pig's, came out looking the 
picture of consternation. The soldier dismounted, and 
asked for something to eat. 

" What ! wittles ?" exclaimed the horrible looking crea- 



206 AN IMPROMPTU DUEL. 

ture. " Whar did you come from, and what be a sojer 
doia' liere?" 

" Well, I came from Indianapolis, and be after some- 
tliing to eat. Are there any secesh in these parts ?" 

"Any what?" 

"Secesh." 

" Why, gracious, what's them ?" 

" Are you and your folks for the Union ?" 

" Why, sartin. That's the old man, neow." 

Just at this moment there came a gaunt-eyed, slim- 
livered, carnivorous, yellow skinned, mountain Yirginian 
— no doubt one of the first families. 

" Look heah," continued the old woman, "this 'ere sojer 
wan1;s to. know if you be Union." 

The old fellow looked more astonished than the woman 
at the soldier. In the course of the conversation the 
soldier inquired what the old man thought of the war. 

" What war ?" exclaimed the old fellow ; " the Ke volu- 
tion?" 

" Yes, the rebellion, we call it." 

" Oh, why, we gin the Britishers fits, didn't we ?" 

It was evident the old man knew nothing of the rebel- 
lion going on. When asked if he heard the fight the 
other day, only six miles' from his home, he opened his 
eyes and said that he heard it thunderin mighty loud, but 
couldn't see no clouds, and didn't know what to make of 
it." 



AN IMPEOMPTU DUEL. 

A Michigander being out on advanced picket duty one 
day, came in sight of a South Carolina rebel, also on simi- 
lar duty, when the following dialogue and duel took 
place. 

Michigan. " Hallo, South Carolina, how are you, to- 
day?" 



AN IMPROMPTU DUEL. 207 

Soutli Carolina. " Pretty well, thank you. How are all 

the Yankees?" 

M. " So so. What's the news over in Dixie ?" 

S. "Nothing, in particular, only we have got some 
rifles now that will out-shoot your Yankee guns, all hol- 
low." 

M. " Don't believe the yarn. You seceshers brag too 
much. Can't fool your pap on that trigger." 

S. "Suppose, then, you and I just take a few private 
passes at each other to settle that little question. What 
say you?" 

M. " Agreed. Forty rods and three shots each." 

The question then arose as to the preliminaries,. &c., 
there being no parties present to act as seconds. These 
were, however, soon settled by South Carolina giving 
Michigan a gold dollar for the first three shots / The par- 
ties then took their positions, and South Carolina blazed 
away his three shots at Michigan, who stood erect and 
pointed out to South Carolina the direction each of his 
shots had taken. Michigan escaped unhurt, and now 
came his turn to fire. South Carolina, to his credit be it 
said, stood erect, and received Michigan's first shot in the 
thigh, which brought him down upon the ground. 

" Hellow, old fellow, none of that," said Michigan-, " no 
dodging the question ; stand up like a man, will you ? 
ll)u oive me two d — d good, shots, and you must pay them, 
mind that, or no more bragging about chivalry^ 

But South Carolina, having one leg broken already by 
a shot from Michigan's unerring Minie musket, could 
not stand on hoth pegs of his chivalry, and, therefore, 
squatted, and consequently cheated our honest Michi- 
gander out of '^two d — d good shots,^^ and thus ended this 
funny impromptu duel. 



208 HOW IKE BAKER WAS WHIPPED. 



HOW IKE BAEZEE WAS WHIPPED. 

Upon a certain day, somewhere about the middle of 
August, 1862, we were stationed on the side of a hill, in 
a thick wood commanding a full view of the main road. 
I was sent that morning to stand guard on the other side 
of the hill, a quarter of a mile distant. In front of me 
was a large meadow inclosed by a worm fence, which 
cornered about two hundred yards from where I stood, 
and then took off at a right angle and was lost to view 
in a deep hollow beyond. There was a small stream 
running through the meadow, which seemed to take its 
rise in the corner before-mentioned. The weather was 
intensely hot, and I was very thirsty. The water in my 
canteen was warm, and did me no good. " I have a great 
notion," soliloquized I, ''to go and fill my canteen at the 
spring yonder, if there is one." I knew this would not 
be allowed ; our sergeant had given me particular orders 
not to expose myself in the clearing, as there was danger 
of my being picked off by some of the enemy's pickets, 
who were supposed to be in the neighborhood. My 
thirst, however, became so intolerable, I determined to 
risk it. 

I left my knapsack af the root of a tree, and taking my 
rifle and canteen, stepped boldly out into the open ground, 
and soon reached the fence. I crept cautiously along it 
until I reached the corner ; here I paused for a few mi- 
nutes and listened intently, but could hear nothing. I 
stood my rifle in the corner of the fence, and sprang 
lightly over. There was a piece of level green sward in 
the corner of the field, which broke off suddenly into a 
deep, rocky gorge. . In approaching the edge I' disco- 
vered a steep, narrow path leading to the bottom. I 
carefully descended, soon reaching the bottom, and turn- 
ing the angle of a large rock discovered, as I expected, 
the spring, and close beside it, to my utter astonishment. 



HOW IKE BARKER WAS WHIPPED. 209 

sat a rebel soldier smoking liis pipe. He did not seem to 
be the least disconcerted at my appearance, but coolly 
taking the pipe from his mouth, surveyed me intently for 
a few minutes. 
. '' Hallo, Yankee !" said he, " how many's of ye ?" 

" I am alone," I replied. 

"All right," said the rebel, resuming his pipe ajid 
pufhng away vigorously. "Water, eh?" continued he, 
pointing toward the spring. "There it is, cool as ice, 
clear as glass, and plenty in it. Help yourself." 

I accordingly took his advice, stepped to the spring, 
and filling my canteen, took a hearty drink of the cool, 
delicious beverage. I then refilled my canteen, and pre- 
pared to depart, not relishing the close proximity of my 
new acquaintance. 

" On picket duty, eh ?" inquired the rebel. 

I answered in the affirmative. 

" Ditto here," said secesh. 

"Well, I'll bid you good day," said I. "I must get 
back to my post, or I shall be missed." 

" Ditto again," said the rebel ; " but don't be in a hurry, 
Yankee, I am going to start myself, and we'll be com- 
pany." The rebel then arose, knocked out the ashes 
ii-om his pipe, and placed it carefully in the lining of his 
hat. 

" Go ahead, Yankee," pointing to the pathway. " I'll 
foller." 

I did not like the appearance of my new acquaintance. 
He was a man of herculean proportions, and there was a 
look in his eye that I thought boded mischief. I, however, 
started up the narrow, path, and soon reached the level 
sward, closely followed by secesh. 

" Yankee," said he, placing his heavy hand on my 
shoulder, " them's a dii-rn'dnation good pair of shoes you 
have on, a mighty good pair of shoes, powerful. Number 
tens, ain't they ?" 

I told him I believed they were that number. 



210 HOW IKE BARKER WAS WHIPPED, 

" I knew it," said he, nodding his head. " I was sure 
on it. Number ten is just mj fit. What will you take 
for them, Yankee ?" 

I told him I did not wish to sell them, as they were the 
only pair I had. 

" Look here, Yankee," said he, meaningly, " I need them 
shoes, and I'm bound to have 'em. I might take you 
along, shoes and all, to our camp, but then I mightn't 
get them, and I might kill you and take the shoes, but I 
ain't in that sort of business. Now I'll tell you what I'll 
do, Yankee. I'll give you a eight for your shoes in Ala- 
bama money, good as wheat in the mill. You'd better 
take it, for I'm bound to have them shoes anyhow !" 

" I tell you what it is, Mr. Kebel," said I, for I began 
to be rather nettled, " I won't sell the shoes, and if you 
think you can get them in any other way, just try it on," 

" Hurrah for you, Yankee," said he, nodding approv- 
ingly. " You're pluck to ' the backbone, but it ain't no 
use ; here's what'll settle the hash at once," and, thrusting 
his hand into his bosom, he drew forth a large bowie- 
knife, and pointing it towards me, said, " Now, Yankee, 
I axes you for the last time, will you give up the shoes ?" 

"No," said I, "I wont; I'll die first." 

" Then die and be d — d," roared he, making a sudden 
plunge at my breast ; but I was too quick for him. I 
sprang nimbly back, and with my right foot gave him a 
violent kick on the hand. It sent the knife spinning into 
the air ; in its descent it struck a rock and bounded far 
away into the hollow beneath. 

"Well, Yankee," said the rebel, rubbing his hands, 
" you think you've done it now, don't you ! Them's 
mighty strong soles on them shoes of yourn, powerful 
strong ; but it only makes me the more anxious to get 
them ; you think, because the knife's gone, you're safe ; 
but you ain't ; here's what'll choke the life out of you 
in double quick time," opening and shutting his fingers. 
*^ Do you know who I am ? I'm Ike Barker, I am, the 



HOW IKE BARKER WAS WHIPPED. 211 

Alabama ring-tail-roarer, half horse, half alligator, the 
other half boa-constrictor, never was whopp'd or laid on 
my back by man or mortal. Yankee," continued he, 
drawing off his coat and rolling np his sleeves, " look at 
this ; there's muscle, there's sinners ; this," said he, crook- 
ing and straightening his arm, " is the axletree of the 
world ; and this/' baring his other arm, " is the sledge- 
hammer of destruction ; you may be a pretty good man 
among Yankees, but I'm a man among men, and I jest 
tell you what it is, if you don^t give up them shoes at 
once, you're a gone sucker ; that's what you are." 

^' There is only one way for you to get the shoes," re- 
plied I, "and that is to come and take them. But I warn 
you, you will be very apt to get hurt." 

"Darn the odds," replied he,^"I ain't afeared. Kow 
look out for yourself, Yankee, for I'm down on you like 
a thousand of bricks." 

So saying, he stepped a step or two back, sprang lightly 
up, and came bounding towards me ; then, stopping sud- 
denly, before I was aware of it, caught me round the 
waist, and threw me heav-ily to the ground. But you 
know, George, it is pretty hard to hold me down in a 
scuffle ; I was on my feet again in an instant, and had 
disengaged myself from my powerful antagonist-. We 
once more stood face to face on the green sward. 

" Well, Yankee," said he, eying me curiously, "you're 
some in a bar fight, I swar you are ! But I'll have them 
shoes yet, I will, by thunder." 

And again he stepped back, preparatory to making 
another rush at me. I did not wait for him to come on 
this time, but, rushing in, planted my right fist heavily 
between his eyes, which nearly knocked him down. I 
endeavored to follow up with my left, but did not quite 
reach him, ^.nd he again closed with me. This time we 
took a fair back hold. This was my favorite mode of 
wrestling, and you know, George, I have wrestled with 
some of the best men in the country with that hold; and 



212 HOW IKE BARKER WAS WHIPPED. 

never "have been thrown on my back yet. But I got my 
match this time. I strained evei^ nerve, tried every 
manoeuvre, but all to no purpose ; he was my equal in 
science, and had the advantage of me in strength. 

Our deadly struggle had now brought us close to the 
edge of the gorge, my strength was fast leaving me, and 
I knew, unless something was done at once, I should soon 
be as the rebel predicted — " a gone sucker !" The ground 
on which we were now struggling sloped towards the 
gorge. I was on the lower side. The rebel pressed me 
hard, thinking to throw me over. I suddenly let go my 
hold, slipped down through hi^arms, caught him by the 
legs, and, with an almost superhuman effort, threw him 
over my head, falling on the ground at the same time 
myself nearly exhausted. When I again rose to my feet 
I saw my antagonist hois de combat. 

In his fall his head had struck a rock, and there he lay 
stunned and hardly able to move. , I picked up my can- 
teen, and hurrying down to the spring, I took a hearty 
drink of the cool, delicious water; then, securing the 
rebel's bowie-knife, which I had the good fortune to find, 
I again ascended to look after my fallen antagonist. He'd 
contrived to raise himself into a sitting posture, and was 
rubbing his eyes and groaning fearfully. 

" Hullo," said I, " secesh ! how are you getting on ?" 

He looked at me confusedly for a while, like one 
awakened from a dream, then, shaking his head dolefully, 
he exclaimed, in a lugubrious voice— 

" Ike Barker's whopped ! Whopped, too, by a cussed 
Yankee. 0— o— oh !" 

" How is it about the shoes ?" said I, preparing to take 
my leave. 

" It's all up with them," said he, shaking his head, " gone, 
gone ! Number tens, too I Just mv fit I O — o— oh ! bo ! 
bo!" 

I handed him his canteen of water, and left him groan- 
ing and bemoaning the- loss of the new shoes. I found 



LIFE AT ELK HORN TAVERN. 213 

my rifle where I had left it, and soon regained my post, 
quite satisfied to be so well rid of my powerful antagonist. 



LIPE AT ELK HOEIJ TAYEEN. 

On the 10th of November, 1862, the writer was ordered 
from Springfield, Missouri, to Elk Horn Tavern to take 
command of the first and second battalions of the First 
Arkansas Cavalry Volunteers, then holding the post. 
At that time, the second and third divisions of the Army 
of the Frontier had fallen back into Missouri, and the 
first, Gen. Blunt commanding, was in camp on Lindsey's 
Prairie, near the line between northwestern Arkansas and 
the Cherokee Nation. Elk Horn Tavern, situated on 
Pea Ridge, Arkansas, and itself the centre of the fiercest 
fighting of the three days' conflict of March of that year, 
is a rude old-fashioned structure, on the Virginian model 
of a hundred years gone. Its overhanging roof and capa- 
cious chimneys, built up sturdily ^from the outside, as 
though scorning modern improvements, gave it an air of 
comfort, and in the days of the over-land mail, its good 
cheer was most ample. 

At the time we mention, it was an outpost for the main 
body of the Army of the Frontier, then lying from forty 
to fifty miles east of it. Gen. Blunt was forty miles 
nearly due west, but relied on this post to facilitate his 
dispatches to Gen. Curtis, commanding the Department 
of Missouri. 

The military telegraph had lately been continued to 
Elk Horn, and it was therefore of great importance to 
hold the post. 

There, was no intermediate ofiice between Elk Horn 
and Springfield — strange, too, that there was none at 
Cassville — and had the post been abandoned, two days^ 
hard riding by messengers, with all the dela3^s and 
dangers incident thereto, would have been'added to the 



214 LIFE AT ELK HORN TAVERN. 

vexations — always numerous enough — of keeping up a 
long line of communication. Moreover, the place was 
threatened by guerrillas, an insignificant enemy when the 
movements of a grand army are considered, but by no 
means to be sneered at in defending outposts, generally 
weak in numbers, and always hazardous in position. 

Such was Elk Horn Tavern — a town of one house — on 
the 14th day of Kovember, 1862. Scarcely had the writer 
arrived, when information came in that the wires had 
been cut. Keitsville, as pestiferous a place as can be 
found above ground, lay ten miles northeasterly, and a 
detachment was at once sent up the road to trace the 
depredators and repair damages. The evidences of the 
mischief were discovered near the town referred to, but 
the wily rascals who caused it had taken to the " brush." 
Administering some wholesome advice to fhe inhabitants 
of the neighborhood, that closed with the significant 
intimation that if the offence was repeated, not a house 
would be left standing for miles along the highway, the 
officer in command returned with his party to Elk Horn. 
The threat had its effect, and for weeks the line was un- 
disturbed. 

On the morning of the 15th, a scouting party was sent 
out under the command of Captain W — . of company H, to 
scour the country adjacent to White Eiver, to rescue five 
men who had recently been captured by Ingraham's band, 
and, if possible, " take in " Ingraham himself. While out, 
there occurred a fight in the dark. Ingraham, however, 
was not captured, and still continued his robbing and 
retreating. The same day were furnished twenty -five 
men to escort the daughters of Isaac Murphy to their 
home in Huntsville, forty miles distant. On the morrow, 
arriving within a mile and a half of the place, it was 
deemed prudent to allow the young ladies to go on alone. 
There were no appearances of danger, no rumors afloat, 
and the men were permitted to dismount. They had 
stopped at the base of a small hill, near an intersection 



LIFE AT ELK HORN TAVERN. 215 

of roads, and the surrounding country was favorable for 
a surprise. Suddenly between sixty and seventy horse- 
men dashed in upon them. A few sprang into the sad- 
dle. Others were unable to, and took to the woods, and 
still others were captured. A feeble resistance was made, 
and those who escape4 were very much inclined to say, 
each to the other, put not your trust in appearances. 

The detachment, save the prisoners, seven in number, 
came finally into camp, and all reports concurred in the 
fact, that the attack was made by regulars aided by a 
number of home guards. The information was import- 
ant enough to warrant reconnoitring, and accordingly, 
on the 17th inst., Major Johnson, commanding the first 
battalion, was sent out with a detachment of two hundred 
men, with orders to penetrate as far as Huntsville if he 
should consider it prudent to do so, at all events to ascer- 
tain whether any considerable force had actually moved 
np from below. Such a demonstration was not improba- 
ble, for many of the Missourians in the Trans-Mississippi 
army were known to be disaffected, and clamoring for an 
advance in the direction of their homes. Starting in a 
severe rain storm that continued for thirty-six hours with- 
out cessation. Major Johnson forded White Eiver with 
difficulty, and then pushed on rapidly towards Huntsville. 
When within ten miles of the town, he was met by loyal 
citizens, known to be such, who confirmed the surmises 
then current at Elk Horn, even among citizens of Hunts- 
ville, that there was at that place at least a brigade of 
rebel soldiery. 

Major Johnson now threw out his scouts, placing a 
trusty of&cer in charge, who reported a confirmation of 
the previous statements, and added to their definiteness 
by rehearsing the story of certain persons, who declared 
solemnly that they had themselves seen cannon in the 
streets of Huntsville, pointed in the direction in which 
the Federals were expected to approach. The White 
Eiver was now rising rapidly, and the danger of being 



216 LIFE AT ELK HORN TAVERN. 

cut off serious, in case a retreat should become necessary. 
Those who ought to know had informed Major Johnson 
of the condition of aftairs at Huntsville, and having been 
ordered out to reconnoitre simplj, he wisely concluded 
to return before the White River should effectually bar 
him. His command were compelled to swim the stream, 
as it was, and two horses were drowned. 

But the sequel showed how a party of reconnoissance 
can be deceived. There had only been at Huntsville 
those who attacked the escort, mostly Jackman's men, 
and these secretly made their way into Missouri, directly 
after the skirmish. Madame Rumor, and citizens whose 
selfish fear of a foraging party was more powerful than 
their patriotism, ruled the hour, and dispatches were for- 
warded to head-quarters that would have answered very 
well as addenda to "The Arabian Nights" or "Sinbad 
the Sailor." 

There were at this time in confinement at Elk "Horn, 
certain citizens of Arkansas, against Avhom charges had 
been preferred for offences known to military law. 

Among them was one John Bell. On the morning of 
the 16th, his wife drove within the pickets, accompanied 
by a lady well dressed and intelligent. Her conduct 
exciting the suspicion of a refugee at Elk Horn, she was 
arrested. Of course, she must know why, and expressed 
very great surprise that she should be so severely dealt 
with. She declared positively that she came simply as 
a companion to Mrs. Bell, and to aid in effecting the re- 
lease of her husband. Moreover, that she had left her 
" littLe one" at Fayetteville, and was very anxious to return 
to him. Upon further inquiry the " little one" proved to 
be a boy thirteen years of age, and her general conduct 
continuing to be suspicious, it was concluded that she 
would " do to hold." 

The tavern was occupied in part by the wife and family 
of its owner, then in tiie rel>el army, and with them Mrs. 
Vestal was domiciled. She was frequently observed 



LirE AT ELK HORN TAVERN. SIT 

looking searchinglj down the Fayettevilie road, and often 
inquired for newspapers, always wishing the latest. Like 
a true student of the times, she invariably scanned the 
telegraphic columns first, and seemed to be deeply inte- 
rested in the war budget. She was a puzzle to us all, 

and on the 17th, Capt. H , of Texas, then at Elk Horn 

with a number of Texans, who were making their way 
homeward with the view of raising a regiment, wag 
granted the privilege of taking such a course as he might 
choose to adopt for the purpose of ascertaining her real 
character. By arrangement, it was represented to Mrs. 
Vestal that an imprisoned Texan captain wished, if agree- 
able, to have an interview with her. It had been pre- 
viously ascertained that she had travelled in Texas, and 
the request was eagerly acceded to. Arrayed in " but- 
ternut" of the most approved color, Capt. H was 

raarched to her apartment under guard, the sentry re- 
maining at the door. He introduced himself as Captain 
Watrous, of Hunt County, a veritable officer in the rebel 
army, and soon acquired her confidence. She now in- 
formed him that she had left Van Buren on the Tuesday 
previous; that between twenty thousand and thirty 
thousand men were assembled there and in' the vicinity; 
that the cavalry advance was at Cane Hill, and that 
thirty days' rations were being prepared for a forward 
tnovement. , 

She further exhorted him to be of good che^r ; told 
him that he need not be uneasy about his situation, and 
that if he should reach the Confederate army before she 
did, he must not fail to inform a certain Missouri regi- 
ment of her arrest and detention. ■ 

"But, captain," at length shrewdly suggested his fair 
confidant, "I did not see you in the guard-house this 
morning when I visited it with Mrs. Bell." 

" Oh ! I am an ofl&cer," was the ready reply, " and they 
allow me the liberty pf the camps." But the position 
was becoming critical; and Watrous thought it about 



218 LIFE AT ELK HORN TAVERN. 

time to beat a retreat. He therefore excused liimself, 
not wishing to intrude too much upon the lady's time, 
and signifying to the guard his readiness to be taken 
away, bowed himself out, and was formally marched off. 
The following morning, this Yestal, in name at led!^t, was 
taken to Cassville, thence to be forwarded to the Provost 
Marshal General, at Springfield. Mrs. Bell remained at 
Elk Horn long enough to find out that her husband could 
not return with her, when she departed for home, a sadder 
bat a wiser women. While Mrs. Yestal's case was under 
consideration, and a military commission was sitting, 
events were thickening below. 

On the 15th, General Blunt had telegraphed that Mar- 
mad uke, with five thousand cavalry and four pieces of 
artillery, was at Ehea's Mill on the 14th, and that Hindman 
with a large infantry force was coming up from Mulberry 
Creek to join him. He, nevertheless, expressed the de- 
termination to fight them, but desired active scouting in 
the direction of Elm Springs, Fayetteville, and the White 
Eiver. The enemy, however, fell back across the Boston 
Mountains, and for a time it was thought by those who 
wear the stars, that he would retreat, not only to Yan 
Buren, but thence to Little Rock. These conjectures 
•proved to be incorrect. Marmaduke again advanced, 
and General Blunt, to cripple the enemy before they 
should be able to concentrate, made a forced march of 
thirty-five miles, and attacked the rebel cavalry at Cane 
Hill, driving them back in disorder to the Boston Moun- 
tains. He now took a position and awaited developments. 
It soon became apparent that Hindman Vas intending a 
general advance, and dispatches for head-quarters came 
" thick and fast" to Elk Horn. 

Though General Blunt is the personification of bravery, 
.and, when the danger was imminent of being attacked by 
far superior numbers, could characteristically predict 
•' one of the d — dest fights or foot races ever heard of," 
he was not unmindful of the necessity for reinforcements. 



LIFE AT ELK HORN TAVERN. 219 

More tlian once he telegraphed to bring forward the 
second an(J third divisions, but their advance was tardy, 
and when General Herron arrived at Elk Horn at noon, 
on the oth of December, Blunt's pickets were engaging 
the rebel vanguard. While these events were passing, 
the cavalry at Elk Horn were not idle. 

Orders were received to scout thoroughly to Yelville, 
seventy-five miles in one direction ; to Huntsville, forty- 
five, miles in another ; and indefinitely towards Fayette- 
ville, and beyond. 

Formal instruction from the commanding officer showed, 
as was expected, but two battalions of cavalry, who had 
never been one hour in a camp of instruction ; and, though 
now in the service from eight to nine months, under the 
most distressing circumstances, and called out by special 
order from the War Department, had, up to this time, 
been only partially clothed — there was not an overcoat 
in the line — and had never been paid. Added to this, 
they were not attached to any division in the Army of 
the Frontier. Campaigning by itself, the regiment was 
ordered first by one general and then another — the inno- 
cent shuttlecok between distant battledoors. 

But the men knew the country where they were ope- 
rating. They were on their native hills, again, and were 
active and zealous in their efforts to support that govern- 
ment, loyalty to which had caused them so much suffer- 
ing. Scouting was maintained with vigor. Frequent 
inroads were made into the enemy's country — a party 
striking here to-day and there to-morrow — now moving 
around Fayettefille, and driving in Marmaduke's pickets 
at Cane Hill, and again dashing into Huntsville, or 
fighting the " bushwhackers" of Carroll County after 
their own method. • At the same time men were needed 
to keep open telegraphic communication with the East, 
and occasionally to forward messages of the first import- 
ance to General Blunt. 

Within the lines of the post, matters were more quiet. 



220 ^ LIFE AT ELK HORN TAVERN. 

The "tavern" soon became a central point for the neigh- 
borhood, many of the citizens being attracted to it by 
their own necessities, and some, no doubt, from motives 
that would not bear the test of scrutiny. Women on 
horseback, with boys en croupe, and sacks in their hands, 
clamored for salt. Twenty-five cents a quart, payable in 
eggs, butter, chickens, money, the genuine ringing silver, 
anything for the saline treasure. Had Lot's wife been 
crystallized at Elk Horn, the monument of her disobe- 
dience would have been hailed as manna from above. 

We had taken with us, for individual use, a bushel of 
"fine table," and it so happened that just at that time no 
, one else had any to spare. The persistent women soon 
found this out, and we were compelled to go to bartering 
for our mess. It availed nothing to insist that we had al- 
ready traded for fifteen chickens, had ten quails, and more 
butter and eggs than we knew what to do with. 

"No, you must give me at least a quart. Yon have 
sold Mrs. Jones and Mrs. Smith some, and I need it as 
much as they do. Now you haven't got any pies, and 
'I've some of the nicest you ever saw. I dried the 
peaches myself T We took the pies, and when that 
bushel of salt disappeared, made light drafts on the com- 
missary. 

Prisoners were frequently brought in, poor, ignorant, 
deluded men, the rough work of the rebellion. Exami- 
nations were protracted or otherwise, according- to cir- 
cumstances, and, aside from their revelation of the dark 
phases of this revolt, the terrible effect of secession upon 
the poor and confiding, their occasional *ludicro'usness is 
deserving possibly of a passing notice. 

" What is your name ?" said the provost-marshal to one 
of them. 

"Which?" 

"What is your name, I say?" repeated the officer. 

"Still." 

" I know ; but what is your first name ?" 



LIFE AT ELK HORN TAVERN. 221 

"J." 

" No, it isn't," cliimed in his wife, pettishly. " Lilburn 
J. Can't you understand the provo ?" 

" Well," continued the marshal, '" what does the J. stand 
for?" 

''I don't know, I'm no scholar," replied the imper- 
turbable Still. 

" That all may be," said the marshal, now a little vexed, 
"but you certainly must know what that J. means." 

" I don't, sir ; I didn't put it there. You'll have to ask 
pap, I reckon." 

The provost-marshal, now concluding that some other 
person would certainly have to be interrogated before 
the point could be cleared up, proceeded with the other 
features of the case. 

One day in December, the pickets brought in a seedy, 
sallow, vagabond-looking individual, wearing an okl 
straw hat, and clothed otherwise in the ubiquitous " but- 
ternut." He represented himself as from Lawrence Coun- 
ty, Missouri, whither he was travelling with a sick wife. 
Further inquiry drew from him the assertion that he had 
been conscripted into the rebel service, and belonged t.o 
Bryant's battalion. He seemed familiar also with the 
topography of Benton County, and spoke freely of pro- 
minent rebels living there. 

When brought to headquarters, it so happened that a 
lieutenant from Benton County was in the room. While 

questioning the man pretty sharply, Capt. W , likewise 

from Benton, came to the door. 

Hearing his own name mentioned, and seeing at once 
what was going on, a sly wink from the lieutenant turned 
the case over to him. 

" Where did you say you have been ?" 

"In the Southern army; I was conscripted." 

"■ Where do you live ?" 

"In Lawrence County, ^Missouri, when I am to home." 

" They don't conscript up there," continued the captain. 



222 LIFE AT ELK HORN TAVERN. 

" Well, I run down liar to git out of the way of the ar- 
my, and they picked me up," replied the prisoner, not at 
all disturbed. 

"You are acquainted in Benton County, I under- 
stand ?" 

"I am that," with emphasis. 

"You mentioned Wimpy's name a little while ago. 
"Wimpy, Wimpy !" said the captain thoughtfully, " what 
Wimpy was that ?" 

" Dick Wimpy. He's, a ' Fed' captain." 

"You know him, of, course, when you see him," con- 
tinued the captain inquiringly, and looking him steadily 
in the face. 

" I reckon I do," replied the prisoner, with a confident 
air. " I was at his house oncst ; but I know his wife a 
heap better than I do him. He was away most of the 
time." 

This was consoling, but the captain, seeing that he was 
not recognized, began again. 

"Were the 'rebs' after Wimpy?" 

Prisoner, knowingly, "You better, believe. They 
watched his house." 

"Who watched it?" 

" Wilson Woodward was one." 

"Anybody else?" 

"I can't remember, now." 
• Captain (still a little curious to see if the fellow did 
really know anything about him, for lie told the truth 
when he mentioned Wilson Woodward) " What sort of a 
fellow is this Wimpy ?" 

" Well, he's a brave chap. I'd bet on him quicker ^an 
I would on five aces^ 

The captain's modesty now overcame him, and he beat 
a retreat, not, however, until he had informed the forward 
individual that he was the veritable Wimpy in question. 

Five minutes afterward a blank countenance went to 
the guard house. ' 



ESCAPE FROM LIEBY PRISON. 223 



ESCAPE PEOM LIBBY PEISON. 

Towards the close of tlie year 1863, the Union officers 
confined in the Libby Prison at Richmond, Ya., conceived 
the idea of effecting their own exchange, and after the 
matter had been seriously discussed by some seven or 
eight of them, they undertook to dig for a distance towards 
a sewer running into the basin. This they proposed to 
do by commencing at a point in the cellar, near a chim- 
ney. This cellar was immediately under the hospital, 
and was the receptacle for refuse straw, thrown from 
the beds when they were changed, and for other refuse 
matter. Above this hospital was a room for officers, and 
above that, yet- another room. The chimney ran through 
all these rooms, and the prisoners who were in the secret 
improvised a rope, and night after night let working par- 
ties down, who successfully prosecuted their excavating 
operations. 

The dirt was hid under the straw and other refuse 
matter in the cellar, and it was trampled down so as not 
to present so great a bulk. When the working party 
had got 'to a considerable distance under ground it was 
found difficult to haul the dirt back by hand, and a spit- 
toon, which had been furnished the officers in one of the 
rooms, was made to serve the purpose of a cart. A string 
was attached to it and it was run into the tunnel, and as 
soon as filled, was drawn out and the dirt deposited under 
the straw, but after hard work and digging with finger 
nails, knives, and chisels a number of feet, the working 
party found themselves stopped by piles driven in the 
ground. These were at least a foot in diameter. But 
they were not discouraged. Penknives, or any other 
articles that would cut were called for, and after chipping, 
chipping, chipping for a long time, the piles were severed, 
and the tunnellers commenced again, and in a few moments 
reached the sewer. 



224 ' ESCAPE FROM LTBBY PRISON. 

But here an -unexpected obstacle met tlieir further 
progress. The stench from the sewers and the flow of 
iilthy water was so great that one of the party Mnted, 
and was dragged out more dead then alive, and the project 
in that direction had to be abandoned. The failure was 
communicated to a few others besides those who had first 
thought of escape, and then a party of seventeen, after 
viewing the premises and surroundings, concluded to 
tunnel under Carey Street. On the opposite side of this« 
street from the prison was a sort of a damaged house or 
out-house, and the project was to dig under the street and 
emerge from under or near the house. There was a high 
fence around it, and the guard was outside of this fence. 
The prisoners then commenced to dig at the other side 
of the chimney, and after a few handfuls of dirt had been 
removed they found themselves stopped by a stone wall, 
which proved afterward to be three feet thick. The party 
were by no means undaunted, and with penknives and 
pocketknives they commenced operations upon the stone 
and mortar. 

After nineteen days and nights' hard work they again 
struck the earth beyond the wall, and pushed their work 
forward. Here, too (after they had got some distance 
under ground), the friendly spittoon was brought into 
requisition, and the dirt was hauled out in small quantities. 
After digging for some days, the question arose whether 
they had not reached the point aimed at, and in order to, 
if possible, test the matter. Captain Gallagher, of the 
Second Ohio Regiment, pretended that he had a box in 
the carriage-house, ovdv the water, and desired to search 
it out. This carriage-house, it is proper to state, was used 
as a receptacle for boxes and goods sent to prisoners from 
the North, and the recipients were often allowed to go, 
under guard, across the street, to secure their property. 
Captain GaUagher was granted permission to go there, 
and as he walked across, under guard, he, as well as he 



ESCAPE FROM LIBBY PRISON. 225 

could, paced off the distance, and concluded that the street 
wa^. about fifty feet wide. 

On the 6th or 7th of February, 1864, the working party 
supposed they had gone a sufficient distance, and com- 
menced to dig upwards. When near the surface they 
heard the rebel guards talking above them, and discovered 
they were some two or three feet yet outside the fence. 

The displacing of a stone made considerable noise, and 
one of th^ sentries called to his comrade and asked him 
what the noise meant. The guards, after listening a few 
minutes, concluded that nothing was wrong, and returned 
to their beats. This hole was stopped up by inserting 
into the crevice a pair of old pantaloons filled with straw, 
and bolstering the whole up with boards, which they se- 
cured from the floors, &c., of the prison. The tunnel was 
then continued only six or seven feet more, and when 
the working party supposed they were about ready to 
emerge into daylight, others in the prison were informed 
that there was a way now open for escape. One hundred 
and nine of the prisoners decided to make the attempt 
to get away. Others refused, fearing .the consequences if 
they were re-captured ; and others yet declined to make 
the attempt, because, as they said, they did not desire to 
have their government back down from its enunciated 
policy of exchange. 

About 8 J o'oclock on the evening of the 9th the pri- 
soners started out, Colonel Eose, of New York, leading 
the van. Before starting, the prisoners had divided 
themselves into squads of two, three, and four, and each 
squad was to take a different roiite, and after they were 
out, were to push for the Union lines as fast as possible. 
It was the understanding that the working party was to 
have an hour's start of the other prisoners, and conse- 
quently, the rope ladder in the cellar was drawn out. 
Before the expiration of the hour, however, the other 
prisoners became impatient, and were let down through 
the chimney successfully into the cellar. 
15 . 



226 ESCAPE FROM LIBBY PRISON. 

Colonel W. P Kendrick, of West Tennessee ; Captain 
D. J. Jones, of tlie First Kentucky Cavalry, and Lieu- 
tenant E. Y. Bradford, of the Second West Tennessee, 
were detailed as a rear guard, or rather to go out last ; 
and from a window Colonel Kendrick and his compan- 
ions could see the fugitives walk out of a gate at the other 
end of the inclosiire of the carriage house, and fearlessly 
move off. The aperture was so narrow that but one man 
could get through at a time, and each squad carried with 
them provisions in a haversack. At midnight a false 
alarm was created, and the prisoners made a considerable 
noise in getting to their respective quarters. Providen- 
tially, however, the guard suspected nothing wrong, and in 
a few moments the exodus was again commenced. Colonel 
Kendrick and his companions looked with some trepida- 
tion upon the movements of the fugitives, as some of 
them, exercising but little discretion, moved boldly out 
of the inclosure into the glare of the gas-light. Many 
of them were, however, in citizen's dress, and ^s all the 
rebel guards wear the United States uniform, but little 
suspicion could be excited, even if the fugitives had been 
accosted by a guard. 

Between one and two o'clock the lamps were extin- 
guished in the streets, and then the exit was more safely 
accomplished. There were many officers who desired to 
leave who were so weak and feeble that they were dragged 
through the tunnel by main force and carried to places 
of safety, until such time as they would be able to move 
on their journey. At half-past two o'clock Captain Jones, 
Colonel Kendrick and Lieutenant Bradford passed out in 
the order they were named, and as Colonel Kendrick 
emerged from the hole he heard the guard within a few 
feet of hira sing out, " Post No. 7, half-past two in the 
morning, and all's well." Col. Kendrick says he could 
hardly resist the temptation of saying, " Not so well as 
you think, except for the Yanks." Lieutenant Bradford, 
who was intrusted with the provisions for his squad, and 



ESCAPE FROM LIBBY PRISON. 227 

could not get througli with "his haversack npoii him, 
was therefore obliged to leave it behind. 

Once out, they proceeded up the street, keeping in the 
shade of the buildings/ and passed eastwardly through 
the city. 

A description of the route pursued by this party, and 
of the tribulations through which they passed, will give 
some idea of the rough time they all had of it. Colonel 
Kendrick had, before leaving the prison, mapped out 
his course, and concluded that the best route to take was 
the one towards Norfolk or Fortress Monroe, as there 
were fewer rebel pickets in that direction. 

While passing through the swamp near the Chicka- 
hominy. Colonel Kendrick sprained his ankle and fell. 
Fortunate, too, was that fall for him and his party, for 
while he was lying there one of them chanced to look up, 
and saw in a direct line with them a swamp bridge, and 
in the dim outline they could perceive that parties with 
muskets were passing over the bridge. They therefore 
moved some distance to the south, and, after passing 
through more of the swamp, reached the Chickahominy 
about four miles below Bottom Bridge. Here now was 
a difficulty. The river was only twenty feet wide, but 
it was very deep, and the refugees were worn-out and 
fatigued. Chancing, however, to look up, Lieut. Brad- 
ford saw that two trees had fallen on either side of the 
river, and that their branches were interlocked. By 
crawling up one tree and down the other, the fugitives 
reached the east bank of the Chickahominy, and Col. 
Kendrick could not help remarking that he believed 
Providence was on their side, else they would not have 
met that natural bridge. 

They subsequently learned, from a friendly negro, that 
had they crossed the bridge they had seen, they would 
assuredly have been recaptured, for Captain Turner, the 
keeper of Libby Prison, had been out, and posted guards 



228 ESCAPE FROM LIBBY PRISON. 

there, and, in fact, had alarmed the whole country, and 
got the people up as a vigilance committee to capture the 
escaped prisoners. 

After crossing over this natural bridge, they lay down 
on the ground, and slept until sunrise on the morning of 
the 11th, when they continued on their way, keeping 
eastwardly as near as they could. Up to this time they 
had had nothing to eat, and were almost famished. About 
noon of the 11th, they met several negroes, who gave 
them information as to the whereabouts of the rebel pickets, 
and furnished them with food. 

Acting under the advice of these friendly negroes, they 
remained quietly in the woods until darkness had set in, 
when they were furnished with a comfortable supper by 
the negroes, and after dark proceeded on their way, the 
negroes (who everywhere showed their friendship to the 
fugitives) having first directed them how to avoid the 
rebel pickets. That night they passed a camp of rebels, 
and could plainly see the smoke and camp-fire. But 
their wearied feet gave out, and they were compelled to 
stop and rest, having only marched seven miles 'that 
day. 

They started again at daylight, on the 13th, and after 
moving awhile through the woods, they saw a negro 
woman working in a field, and called her to them, and 
from her received directions, and were told that the rebel 
pickets had been about there, looking for the fugitives 
from Libby. Here they laid low again, and resumed 
their journey when darkness set in, and marched five 
miles, but halted until the morning of the 14:th, when the 
journey was resumed. 

At one point they met a negro in the field, and she 
told them that her mistress was a secesh woman, and that 
she had a son in the rebel army. The party, however, 
were exceedingly hungry, and they determined to secure 
some food. This they did by boldly approaching the 
house, and informing the mistress that they were fugitives 



ADVENTURES OF AN ARKANSAS REFUGEE. 229 

from ISTorfolk, who had been driven out by Butler, and 
the secesh sympathies of the woman were at once aroused, 
and she gave them of her substance, and started them on 
their way with directions' how to avoid the Yankee sol- 
diers, who occasionally scouted in that vicinity. This 
information was exceedingly valuable to the refugees, 
for by it they discovered the whereabouts of the Federal 
forces. 

When about fifteen miles from "Williamsburg, the party 
came upon the main road, and found the tracks of a large 
body of cavalry. A piece of paper found by Captain 
Jones satisfied him that they were Union cavalry, but 
his companions were suspicious, and avoided the road 
and mQved forward, and at the " Burnt Ordinary" (about 
ten miles from Williamsburg) awaited the return of the 
cavalry that had moved up the road, and from behind a 
fence corner where they were secreted, the fugitives saw 
the flag of the Union, supported by a squadron of cavalry, 
which proved to be a detachment of Colonel Spear's 
Eleventh Pennsylvania Eegiment, sent out for tTie purpose 
of picking up escaped prisoners. 

The party rode into Williamsburg with the cavalry, 
where they were quartered for the night, and where they 
found eleven others who had .escaped safely. Colonel 
Spear and his command furnished the officers with cloth- 
ing and other necessaries. 

At all points along the route was their reception by 
the negroes most enthusiastic, and there was no lack of 
white people who sympathized with them, and helped 
them on their way. 



ADYENTITEES OP AN AEKANSAS EEPUGEE. 

When General (then Colonel) Sigel fell back from Car- 
thage, Mo., to Mt. Vernon, in the summer of 1861, one 
De Witt C. Hopkins, a refugee from Arkansas, who had 



230 ADVENTURES OF AN ARKANSAS REFUGEE. 

acted as the General's guide, determined to revisit his 
home, and if possible put himself in such an attitude 
that he could remain there until other opportunities should 
be presented to give information to the Federal army. 
To this end he arrayed himself in the home-spun of the 
country— ^a process, however, that required but slight 
modifications of his former garb — and started out alone 
and on a circuitous route, first for Lower Kansas and the 
Indian Nation. Arriving at Humboldt, he struck thence 
for the Neosho Eiver, down that to Grand Eiver, and from 
the latter stream wended his way to the Grand Saline 
(salt works) in the Cherokee Nation. He then purchased 
a pair of Indian ponies, with the view ostensibly of selling 
them to the Confederate army, when he should have 
reached it from below. From the Grand Saline he went 
to Telequah, and from thence to Maysville, Benton County, 
Arkansas. 

Learning that the rebels were concentrating again and 
reorganizing their forces on Cowskin Prairie, he entered 
the camp from the southwest, leading one pony and riding 
the other. Meeting a number of old acquaintances, he 
regretted very much his inability to be at the Carthage 
fight, and rejoiced with them over the easy surrender of 
the redoubtable Teuton, who commanded at Neosho. 
His character as a sympathizing Indian trader giving 
him ready currency, he sold one of his animals, and re- 
taining the other, passed on homeward, but soon found 
that he could not remain in safety. His sudden disap- 
pearance at a critical juncture had been observed, and he 
saw that he was an object of suspicion. A very few days, 
in fact, sufficed to warn him of his danger, and he was com- 
pelled to abandon his father's roof for the woods hard by. 

On one occasion he was near the house, when a party 
of men rode suddenly up and demanded his forthcoming. 
Listening to their conversation with his father, he gathered 
enough of it to induce him to show himself, to prevent 
the burning of the house, but in such a way that his pre- 



ADVENTURES OF AN ARKANSAS REFUGEE. 231 

sence should be felt as well as seen. He was well 
mounted, an intrepid rider, and dashing past them, dis- 
charged both barrels of a shotgun, and spurred into a 
thicket. Attention was now directed from the house, the 
party riding after him, save two crippled rebels, who were 
the unfortunate recipients of this unexpected salutation. 
Escape, nevertheless, was easy, and as soon as his pur- 
suers were baffled, young Hopkins cautiously approached 
sthe house of Small Cloud Spicer, acting Chief of the 
Seneca Nation. A minor. Curly Eye Butterfly, was the 
heir apparent, but to Small Cloud was intrusted the 
management of the affairs of the tribe, and Hopkins, pre- 
viously acquainted with him, believed his protection to 
be worth the seeking. It was cheerfully, but cautiously 
accorded, and to avoid suspicion, a hiding place a short 
distance off", near the Cowskin River, was pointed out. 
There Hopkins secreted himself for several days, his food 
being brought to him by an Indian maiden, daughter of 
Small Cloud, when learning that his enemies had left 
the vicinity, he ventured to return home. 

Shortly after this occurrence, a dancing party assembled 
at the house of a Captain Parks, in the Cherokee Nation. 
Ascertaining in advance that a number of rebel officers 
were expected to grace the occasion with their presence, 
Hopkins determined to attend, for the double purpose of 
enjoying himself and gathering information of army 
movements. Inviting an Indian girl, he led her in due 
time to the floor, but had scarcely done so when a stal- 
wart Cherokee brushed past him in a manner that, by 
the customs of the tribe, could only be construed into a 
deliberate affront. Ifc was so intended, in fact, for the 
same dusky damsel had declined him as an escort to the 
dance, our friend having preoccupied the ground. The 
insult was properly resented, and the ball came suddenly 
and tragically to a close. While the company had been 
assembling, young Hopkins learned that a movement 
was in contemplation against General Lyon, but not pos- 



232 ADVENTURES OF AN ARKANSAS REFUGEE. 

sessecl of sufficient information to' warrant the hazards 
of a trip to Union headquarters, returning home he ten- 
dered his services to General Eains. They were accepted, 
and he was established at headquarters, a voluntary aide- 
de-camp without rank or braid. 

On the 9th of August the rebels were so to move, as 
to attack Springfield at daylight on the 10th, and Hopkins, 
becoming satisfied that such was the intention, essayed 
to reach the Federal lines. He was arrested, however, 
just outside. of the rebel lines, by a patrol of Louisiana 
troops, and it required all his coolness and address to 
sustain, even partiall}^, the character of forager for the 
General's mess. Considered a suspicious personage, he 
was taken to camp, and placed under guard, his case to 
be disposed of after th6 expected battle then absorbing 
attention. Eor various reasons, the contemplated advance 
on the night of the 9th was not made, and on the follow- 
ing morning the battle was fought at Wilson's Creek, 
ten miles southwesterly from Springfield. During the 
engagement Hopkins was kept with Woodruf[''s battery, 
but in the evening the guards left him, wild, like their 
comrades, over the unexpected success of the rebel arms. 
Springing now oh to a horse, he rode rapidly homeward. 
Alternating between the house and the woods, he re- 
mained in the vicinity until General Fremont's arrival at 
Springfield, an event that hastened his departure, success- 
fully now, to the Federal lines. ' Arriving at Flat Creek, 
he reported to Sigel, commanding the advance, and was 
placed at once in the corps of secret service men. In 
January following he was sent southward by General 
Curtis, then commanding the Army of the Southwest, to 
proceed to the Arkansas River. 

The rebels then held Arkansas and Southwestern Mis- 
souri ; were making extensive preparations for the battle 
fought afterwards at Pea Ridge, and to enter their lines, 
much more to pass through them to the river in question, 
was an undertaking as difficult as hazardous. Providing 



ADVENTtJRES OF AN ARKANSAS REFUGEE. 233 

liimself with a suit of the most approved Confederate gray ; 
dyeing his hair and whiskers ; adjusting a pair of goggles ; 
mounting a " C. S." horse, and assuming the character of 
a Missouri officer, returning from a recruiting expedition, 
he struck into the Indian Nation, and then boldly south- 
ward. It required now all his address to avoid suspicion, 
but his confidence increased with his peril. 

Courage on the battle-field, questionable ofttimes, as 
advancing columns approach each other, is thoroughly 
roused by a few volleys, but the cool, deliberate daring 
of the spy — the resolution that braves reproach, igno- 
miny, and death, belongs to men of other stamp. The 
services of this class are as old as war, and though the 
spy may occasionally fail of his object, and impart infor- 
mation to be received with allowances, he is indispensable, 
and so far as money can reward, government looks well 
to his interests. 

At the time of which we write. Fort Smith, situated at 
the junction of the Arkansas and Poteau Eivers, and di- 
rectly on the line between the State of Arkansas and the 
Choctaw Nation, was a central point in rebel scheming 
in the Southwest ; where troops were gathered ; from 
Avhich news of importance to the army was set in motion, 
and where, within the fortress of the same name, magnates 
of the new Confederacy met to eat, drink, and plot treason. 
Here, in February, 1862, Ben McCuUough sneered at 
Northern prowess ; and here, in March, was buried, falling 
at Pea Ridge, before the aim of Peter Pellican, a private 
of Company " B," of the 36th Illinois Infantry Volunteers. 
The officers' mess at the fort was kept by a Mrs. Preston, 
and it was customary to lay the table for supper imme- 
diately after dark. Formality in coming and going was 
dispensed with; the place in this particular assuming 
more the character of a restaurant than officers' quarters. 
Of these peculiarities Hopkins was cognizant, and moving 
rapidly through the Cherokee Nation, arrived on the 
evening of the fourth day out at a friendly house on tho 



234 ADVENTURES OF AN ARKANSAS REFUGEE. 

nortliern bank of t"he Arkansas, a mile from the fort. 
During the night, and the next day, he remained in the 
neighboring cane, and as darkness set in moved for the 
river. His garb securing ferriage across without diffi- 
culty, he rode boldly up to the main entrance, saluted 
the sentinel on duty as he passed, and with the air of an 
habitue, dismounted in front of the officers' quarters, tied 
his horse, and walked with the utmost nonchalance into 
the supper room. 

It so happened that the bell had just been rung, and 
entering with others, he quietly took a seat at the foot of 
the table. There were seated about it. General Mcintosh 
(killed at Pea Eidge), Major Montgomery, of the Quarter- 
master's Department, and other prominent officers. The 
conversation turned upon the all-absorbing events of the 
tifne ; the probable advance of General Curtis, and their 
own state of preparation, and was in nowise restrained by 
the presence of the pseudo recruiting officer. The viands 
disposed of, the position was becoming embarrassing, 
and Hopkins wished for nothing so much, as that his 
brother officers should rise and precede him from the room, 
but they pertinaciously clung to their seats. At length, 
conscious that he could remain no longer without exciting 
suspicion, he rose and moved unconcernedly towards the 
door. Now, for the first time, .he arrested attention. As 
he passed General Mcintosh, that officer turned sharply 
around — 

" Who do you belong to ?" he inquired, with more 
emphasis than politeness. 

"Quartermaster's Department, Little Kockl" was the 
ready response. 

" What's that you say ?'"' said Major Montgomery, start- 
ing up from the other side of the table. 

Seeing, on the instant, that his affairs were likely to 
take a disastrous turn, and without venturing a reply, 
he rushed quickly out, cut the strap with which his horse 
was tied, and (Jashed for the fortress gate leading into 



ADVENTURES OF AN ARKANSAS REFUGEE. 235 

Garrison Avenue — tlie avenue to the river. For a few 
moments the officers at the fort were so startled by the 
strange occurrence that they lost their self-possession. 
Recovering it, they gave the alarm ; shouted to the sen- 
tinel on duty at the gate to ''halt the dare-devil," and 
harmlessly discharged one or two pistols. By this time 
Hopkins had passed the guard, though shot at and slightly 
"wounded as he darted by, and was galloping at a furious 
rate down the avenue. Arriving at the river he spurred 
his horse boldly in, and sliding off in a manner, not un- 
familiar to those whose army experiences have compelled 
them to swim streams too deep to be forded, grasped the 
animal by the caudal extremity, and making a rudder of 
himself, landed finally on the opposite bank. Remaining 
unobserved that night and the next day in the friendly 
cane, while an active search was being made for him, appa- 
rently in almost every direction, he then struck northward, 
moving up by Frog Bayou through Crawford, Washington, 
and Benton Counties, Arkansas, and after the lapse of se- 
veral days reported to General Sigel. 

While McCullough's army was lying at Cross Hollows 
in the February following, Hopkins appeared within the 
lines with two artillery horses for sale. Readily bargain- 
ing them away for Confederate notes, he delivered one, 
and at his own request was permitted to retain the other 
until the following morning. Meantime he quietly pre- 
pared to run the pickets, and about 9 o'clock in the even- 
ing approached those stationed on the telegraph road 
leading to Elk Horn Tavern. 

" Who comes there ?" shouted a voice from the road 
side. 

"Friend with the countersign," was the quick reply. 

"Advance, friend, and give it." 

Hopkins now rode rapidly forward, answered the de- 
mand with the quick discharge of bgth barrels of a shot 
gun at the astonished soldiers, and spurring onward 
through the darkness, was soon out of harm's way. A 



236 ADVENTURES OF AN ARKANSAS REFUGEE. 

month later he participated in the battle on Pea Eidge, 
and after that engagement, was for some time employed 
as a general scout for the post at Cassville. Thus engaged 
when Col. Harrison began recruiting for the First Arkan- 
sas Cavalry, he ardently seconded his efforts, and received 
power to recruit for the proposed regiment. 

On the 5th of April, 1862, he left .Cassville, and shortly 
after midnight of the same day arrived at the Widow 
Christie's, on Pool's Prairie, Newton County, Missouri. 
Tired, hungry, and drenched with rain, he roused the 
occupants, and was admitted to the house. His horse, 
upon the advice of the widow, was secreted in the neigh- 
boring bushes, as Livingston's men, notorious bush- 
whackers, were constantly prowling about the locality. 
He had s,carcely disposed himself by the fire, when the 
house-dog raised a warning bark, that was answered by 
the clearly distinguishable clattering of hoofs close to the 
house. Yerily the Philistines were now upon him, though 
not probably aware of his presence. His feminine friend, 
alarmed, nevertheless, for his safety, threw up the quilts 
and mattress of a bed in an adjoining room, and told him 
to jump underneath them. In he went with boots, spurs, 
hat, and a fair representation of southwestern mud. . The 
clothes were covered over him, and save a moderate 
increase of altitude, the bed was in statu quo. The 
approaching party were indeed Livingston's men, and a 
few minutes later they entered the house. The widow 
accounted for the light at so unusual an hour by saying 
that she was unwell, and had risen to prepare a warm 
cup of tea. 

The excuse was satisfactory, and after a brief halt the 
marauders departed. Hopkins now emerged from his 
place of concealment, and shortly afterwards was gallop- 
ing away to the westward. Kecruiting .as he passed 
along, he had collected between twenty and thirty men, 
when his services as a scout were desired by Major Hub- 
bard, of the First Missouri Cavalry, then scouring souj^h- 



ADVENTURES OP AN ARKANSAS REFUGEE. 237 

■western Missouri. They were promptly given, and to 
Lis intrepid guidance is due much of the praise properly 
accorded to the Union forces for their operations against 
Waitie, Coffee, and the rebel Indians, in the spring of 
1862. 

After the affair at Neosho, Mo., in which Major Ilub- 
bard obtained a signal success over the enemy, Hopkins, 
worn down with incessant riding, left the command, and 
repaired to a private house for rest. A portion of the 
37th Illinois Infantry Volunteers had encamped near by, 
and it was Hopkins' intention to move on with them in 
the morning to Cassville. When morning came, how- 
ever, the troops had departed, and he found himself alone 
in the enemy's country. ISTothing was left, of course, but 
to follow on, which he did, gayly and unconcernedly — ■ 
for the rebels had been most thoroughly whipped — when 
suddenly there sprang from the roadside, as he was pass- 
ing a secluded spot, half a dozen armed men, who checked 
him with a well understood " Halt !" There was no al- 
ternative, and he surrendered. This occurrence took 
place on the 27th of April. On the 1st of May he was 
sent under charges as a spy, by Colonel Waitie, to General 
Cooper's headquarters, on Buck Creek, in the Choctaw 
Nation, and from thence to Fort McCullough, where Gene- 
ral Pike, as commander of the district of Indian Territory, 
was then stationed. Here he was detained two weeks, 
but uniformly treated with great kindness by General 
Pike. Returned then to Cooper's command he was for- 
warded from it to Norfolk, on the north fork of the Cana- 
dian River, and from thence to Colonel Waitie's camp, 
then pitched on Cowskin Prairie, in southwestern Mis- 
souri. 

His trial was now entered upon, but while pending, an 
adjournment took place, and he was sent to Fort Smith, 
where the remainder of the evidence against him was to 
be taken. At that place the trial was concluded, the 
prisoner convicted and sentenced to be hung, and the 



238 ADVENTURES OP AN ARKANSAS REFUGEE. 

" record sent up to General Pike, for the usual supervision 
of a commanding officer. The result of his reviewing 
was a reversal of the decision of the court below, on the 
ground that the offence committed, if committed at all, 
took place within the territorial limits of the State of Mis- 
souri, which, so far as the Government of the Confederate 
States was concerned, was conquered territory in the 
possession of the Federal forces ; and that therefore Hop- 
kins could not, by the laws of war, be regarded as a spy, 
but was entitled to the treatment and disposition given to 
other prisoners of war. He was held, nevertheless, but his 
confinement was made less rigorous, the freedom of a dun- 
geon being substituted for the close quarters of a ball and 
chain, with a staple in the floor to give them locality. 

About this time Majors Hubbard and Miller made their 
dashing entrance iuto Fayetteville, and the report came to 
Fort Smith that Judge David Walker, a rebel sympa- 
thizer, had been killed. The rebels at the fort were quite 
naturally enraged at such a proceeding, and " blood for 
blood" was demanded for the supposed outrage. Hop- 
kins was their selection, and his execution was ordered 
to take place one afternoon at four o'clock. Fortunately, 
on the morning of the dreaded day, news was received 
that Judge Walker was still alive and unharmed, and the 
execution was indefinitely postponed. Hopkins now re- 
ceived the treatment to which he was entitled, and on the 
2d of August, 1862, left Fort Smith for exchange at 
Cassville. Eeportingto Colonel Harrison at Springfield, 
he was promoted to the captaincy of a company of the 
regiment in which he had enlisted some months pre- 
viously, and since re-entering the service has been con- 
stantly on duty, proving himself under all circumstances 
to be a very bold, daring, and efficient officer. 



HOW THE SECESH TOOK CLARK WRIGHT. 239 



HOW THE SEOESH TOOK CLAEK WEIGHT. 

Maj. Clark Wriglit, who has obtained considerable 
prominence during the present Avar as a scout and a 
soldier — having been in command of a squadron of the 
sam# character as himself — moved from Ohio to Polk ' 
County, Missouri, in 1858, and, buying a large amount of 
prairie, commenced the business of stock raising. He 
was just before married to a woman of more than ordi- 
nary intelligence and determination, who proved herself 
eminently fitted for the duties which their new life im- 
posed upon them. He prospered greatly, and in a short 
time had erected a fine house, furnished in the best style 
possible, had two young children, an amiable wife, a good 
home, and was adding rapidly to an originally large for- 
tune. 

- When the roar of secession came up from South Caro- 
lina, he heard it in common with others of his neighbors, 
but while avowing himself in favor of sustaining the 
Union, he determined to attend strictly to his own busi- 
ness. He had no hesitation in expressing his sentiments 
of loyalty to the government, but he did it quietly, and 
with a view not to give offence. Soon after, at a Baptist 
meeting near his residence, a few of the brethren, after 
refreshing their spiritual appetites with the crumbs of 
the sanctuary, took his case into consideration, and unani- 
mously determined that he should be made to leave the 
country, and appointing a committee of three to inform 
him of their decision. 

One of the party, although an ardent secessionist, hap- 
pened to be a personal friend of Wright, and hastening 
away, informed him of the meeting, and that the committee 
would wait on him the next day, Monday. Wright 
thanked his kind friend, and, then like a dutiful husband, 
laid the case before his wife, and asked her advice. She 
pondered a few moments; and then asked him if he had 



240 HOW THE SECESH TOOK CLARK WRIGHT. 

done any tiling to warrant such, a proceeding. Kothing. 
" Then let us fight !" was the reply ; and to fight was the 
conclusion. Wright was plentifully supplied with revol- 
vers ; he took two, and his wife another, loaded them care- 
fully, and waited further developments. 

Monday afternoon three men rode up and inquired for 
Mr. Wright, He walked out, with the butt of a revolver 
sticking warily from his coat pocket, and inquired their 
wishes. The revolver seemed to upset their ideas. They 
answered nothing in particular, and proceeded to converse 
upon everything in general, but never alluded to their 
errand. Finally, after a half hour had passed, and the 
men still talked on without coming to the mission, Wright 
grew impatient, and asked if they had any special busi- 
ness ; if not, he had a pressing engagement, and would 
like to be excused. Well, they had a little business, said 
one, with considerable hesitation, as he glanced at the 
revolver butt. ^ 

" Stop," says Wright, " before you tell it, I wish to say 
a word. I know your business, and I, just promised my 
wife, on my honor as a man, that I would blow h — 11 out 
of the man who told me of it, and by the eternal God, I'll 
do it ! Now tell me your errand !" and. as he concluded 
he pulled out his revolver, and cocked it. The fellow 
glanced a moment at the deadly looking pistol, and took 
in the stalwart form of Wright, who was glaring at him 
with murder in his eye, and concluded to postpone the 
announcement. The three rode away,' and reported the 
reception to their principals. 

The next Sunday, after another refreshing season, the 
brethren again met and took action upon the contumacy 
of Mr. Wright. The captain of a company of secessionists 
was present, and, after due deliberation, it was deter- 
mined that upon the next Thursday he should take his 
command, proceed to Wright's, and summarily eject him 
from the sacred soil of Missouri. Wright's friend was 
again present, and he soon communicated the state of 



HOW THE SECESH TOOK CLARK WRIGHT. 241 

affairs to Mr. Wright, with a suggestion that it would 
save trouble and bloodshed if he got away before the 
day appointed. 

Wright lived in a portion of the country remote from 
the church and the residence of those who were endea- 
voring to drive him out, and he determined, if possible, 
to prepare a surprise for the worthy captain and his gal- 
lant forced. To this end he bought a barrel of whiskey, 
another of crackers, a few cheeses, and some other pro- 
visions, and then mounting a black boy upon a swift 
horse, sent him around the country inviting his friends 
to come and see him and bring their arms. By Wednes- 
day night he had gathered a force of about three hundred 
men, to whom he communicated the condition of things, 
and asked their assistance. They promised to back him 
to the death. The next day they concealed themselves in 
a cornfield back of the house, and awaited the develop- 
ment of events. 

A little after noon the captain and some eighty men 
rode up to the place and inquired for Mr. Wright. That 
gentleman immediately made his appearance, when the 
captain informed him that, -being satisfied of his aboli- 
tionism, they had come to eject him from the State. ' 

" Won't you give me two days to settle up my affairs ?" 
asked Wright. 

" Two days be d — d ! I'll give you five minutes to 
pack up your traps and leave here." 

" But I can't get ready in five minutes.' I have a fine 
property here, and a happy home, and if you drive me 
off you'll make iffe a beggar. I have done nothing ; if I 
go, my wife and children must starve I" 

" To h — 11 with your beggars ! You must travel I" 

"Give me two hours!" 

"I'll give you just five minutes, and not a second 
longer! If you ain't out by that time (here the gallant 
soldier swore a most fearful oath), I'll blow out your cursed 
abolition heart !" 
16 



^jt 



242 HOW THE SECESH TOOK CLARK WRIGHT, 

" Well; if I must, I must !" and "Wright turned toward 
the house as if in deep despair, gave a preconcerted 
whistle, and almost instantly after, the concealed forces 
rushed out, and surrounded the astonished captain and 
his braves. 

" Ah, captain," said Wright, as he turned imploringly 
toward him, "won't you grant me two days— two hours, 
at least, my brave friend, only two hours in* which to 
prepare myself and family for beggary and starvation — 
now do, won't you ?" 

The captain could give no reply, but sat upon his 
horse, shaking as if ague-smitten. ' 

" Don't kill me 1" he at length found voice to say. 

^' Kill you ! No, you black-livered coward, I won't dirty 
my hands with any such filthy work. If I kill you, I'll 
have one of my niggers do it ! Get down from that 
horse !" 

The gallant captain obeyed, imploring only for life. 
The result of the matter was that the whoje company 
dismounted, laid down their arms, and then, as they were 
filed out, were sworn to preserve their allegiance inviolate 
to the United States. An hour after, Mr. Wright had 
organized a force of 240 men for the war, and by accla- 
mation was elected captain. The next Sunday he started 
with his command to join the National troops under Lyon, 
stopping long enough on hjs way to surround the Hard- 
shell Church, at which had originated all of his miseries. 
After the service was over, he administered the oath of 
allegiance to every one present, including the Reverend 
Pecksniff, who officiated, and then left them toplot treason 
and worship God in their own peculiarly pious and har- 
monious manner. 



A EACE FOR LIFE. 243 



A EACE POE LIFE. 



The following narrative is given, as nearly as possible, 
in the words of the party immediately involved, and is 
another exemplification of the barbarism of slavery : — 

I had been doing a heavy wholesale and retail provi- 
siori business in the city of Augusta, Georgia, for two 
years, and was getting along with the inhabitants very 
smoothly, until a little circumstance transpired in the fall 
of 1860 which incited the populace against me. I had 
taken more or less interest in political affairs while I 
lived there, and, as much from policy as anything else, 
adopted a conservative view of matters. I was a strong 
Bell and Everett man, and when the State Convention 
was in session, I was mentioned as one of the State elec- 
tors. * 

As it was known that I came from Iowa, some of my 
political coj;istituents wrote to the latter city for informa- 
tion as to my antecedents. The letter was addressed to 
one of the prominent law firms of Dubuque, and for some 
unaccountable reason answered in such a manner as to 
direct the deepest indignation of the community where I 
lived towards me. They were informed that I was a 
loud-mouthed abolitionist, and had stumped the State of 
Iowa for Fremont. Within a short time of the receipt 
of that letter my house was surrounded by an infuriated 
mob, eager to wreak a blind vengeance on me. I ap- 
pealed to the mayor, who was a warm personal friend of 
mine, for protection. He responded by calling out the 
entire police force to disperse. the rabble. 

Myself and son-in-law stood all that night at the head 
of the first flight of stairs, in my house, with fire-arms 
and axes, resolved to sell our. lives as dearly as possible, 
should the miscreants break in. My brave wife knew 
no fear, and would not leave my side, although I en- 
treated her to do. so. She seemed nerved to desperation 



244 A RACE FOR LIFE. 

by our common danger, and ready to face and sacrifice 
her life, if necessary, in defence of our home. 

The people were pacified at last when they found us 
too resolute to beamposed upon, and after a short time I 
was allowed to pursue my business as usual. I satisfied 
them apparently that I did not entertain principles repug- 
nant to their peculiar views, and convinced them that 
the information they had received was a tissue of false- 
hoods, yet there ever after lurked among them a suspi- 
cion of my loyalty to the South. Thus we lived through 
the winter, the community daily becoming more excited 
and bitter against .those who did not coincide to the 
letter with the damnable opinions that then ruled the 
hour. 

In illustration of this I will only cite one instance. A 
party of merchants were discussing the impending crisis, 
one afternoon in a store not far from mine, when one of 
my neighbors made the following remark — " Gentlemen, 
we must be careful, and not underrate the strength of the 
enemy." That same night a committee called on him, 
and asked him if he had made such a remark, when he 
replied, " Yes. I do not see the harm in it. It is one of 
the first lessons in military strategy not to underrate the 
power of the foe." His explanation availed him nothing. 
He was seized, and one side of his head and face shaved 
clean of the hair and whiskers. Then the newly shaved . 
portions were daubed with tar and feathers. He then re- 
ceived forty lashes, and was given to understand that he 
had twelve hours in which to make himself scarce. 

This was not an isolated instance. Deeds of violence 
were of daily occurrence, and many times they resulted 
in the death of the victim. With such a state of society 
boiling around me, I naturally felt anxious to remove 
my family beyond all chance of injury. Finally, when 
they had foi* some time been drafting troops from the 
city for Jeff Davis' army, I foresaw the time when I would 
be called on, and determined to remove my wife and 



A RACE FOR LIFE. , 245 

children to the North. I started off with them, and sent 
them forward, while I returned to Augusta to close up 
my business. 

I continued in my trade there for a short time, endea- 
voring to convert my property into funds that woiUd be 
current in Iowa. I dared not purchase gold at the bank 
myself, for fear of attracting the attention of the Vigilance 
Committee. 'No one was allowed to leave the country 
openly. Through the friendship of a young man named 
Powers, who had been boarding with me, I purchased 
some current funds, perhaps three or four hundred dollars. 
He was a book peddler from Ohio, who had been selling 
a work entitled, " Cotton is King," and it was through his 
friendship and services mainly that I escaped. 

One afternoon, an orderly sergeant came into my count- 
ing room and informed me that it would be necessary, in 
accordance with a' recent requisition from Montgomery, 
for me to enlist. I saw that it would not do to hesitate 
an instant, and therefore manifested great readiness, and 
eagerness to join. I was told I could haVe my choice 
between infantry and cavalry, and that - 1 must meet my 
comrades that night at the armory. I chose to join the 
cavalry, and at the appointed hour was on hand to enroll 
my name. I was very zealous, apparently, in my wishes 
to fight the abolitionists, and by skilfully guarding my 
speech, led my comrades to think I was the best seces- 
sionist of them all. The sergeant presented me with a 
splendid Colt's navy revolver, which had just been stolen 
from the United States. I requested him to load it for 
me, as I was not posted in that sort of thing. He did so. 
Those five charges are still in the barrels, and so help 
me, they shall never be fired off' until they are discharged 
into the body of the sergeant who loaded it. 

I got away from the armory, and hurried' home, where 
I found Powers making preparations to go North by the 
next train, which left at half past ten that night. I told 
him I must get away from Augusta that night at any 



246 A RACE FOR LIFE. 

cost. I asked him to take my carpet-bag on board the 
train, and if I did not call for it in a certain time, to send 
it to my ^family in Dubuque. He said he would do so. 

I locked up my store and house, the one completely 
furnished from top to bottom, and the other containing 
some nine thousand dollars' worth of goods, which I was 
obliged to leave behind to fall into the hands of the rebels. 

I then repaired to the depot nearly an hour before the 
time for the departure of the train, and secreted myself' 
under the rear car, on a cross-piece which connected the 
wheels. Grasping my pistol in my hand, and resolving 
to shoot the first man who should discover me, I waited 
for events. Soon after I had gained this position the 
Yigilance Committee came into the depot. They were 
a party of men appointed to see that no Northern men 
went away on the train, and to exercise a general surveil- 
lance over all suspicious characters. ' If they discovered 
a Northern man, he was taken out, whipped, and otherwise 
maltreated — usually shot ; so I knew what my fate would 
"be, if I was detected. As the hour for starting drew near, 
my suspense was agonizing in. the extreme. Finally a 
little incident occurred which probably insured my sal- 
vation from their clutches. The committee went through 
the cars after the passengers were seated, and closely 
questioning and scrutinizing every individual. In one 
car they found an old rnan who answered to the descrip- 
tion of a man who had been tarred and feathered at 
Savannah and shipped off. Appending to the dispatch 
describing him, was the Christian injunction, "If you 
catch him, give him hell." ♦ 

One of the ruffians lifted his gray locks and saw the 
tar still adhering to his brow, where he had been unable 
to remove it. He fairly yelled with delight ''Here's the 
old devil. We've got him !" etc. etc. They howled and 
then' dragged him from the car to the platform outside, 
although they did not know of a thing he had done amiss. 

" Gentlemen," said the aged man respectfully, " I am an 



A RACE FOR LIFE. 247 

old^man, and do not know that I ever did any man wrong. 
All I ask is for tbe privilege of getting home to my 
family. I beg you will release 'me." 

They laughed his entreaties to scorn, and bore him 
away in the dark, screeching and yelling like demons, 
doubtless to torture him with scourges, and perhaps to 
murder him as they have so many before him. During 
all this time I lay within a dozen feet of some of the 
party, expecting every moment I would be discovered 
by some uulucky friend. It is well for him and rpe he 
did not, fir that moment would have been the signal for 
his death. I would have shot as many as I could, and 
died dearly. 

At last the train moved out of the depot slowly around 
a curve, and when it was out of the range of the depot 
lamps I dropped from my perch and clambered upon the 
rear car. Going into the car, I sat down in the darkest 
corner, and drew my hat over my face in order to escape 
recognition. By feigning sleep I* escaped the . attention 
and remarks of my townsmen, many of whom were on 
board of the train, uptil morning, when we reached 
Atlanta, some two hundred miles from Augusta. If I 
could get beyond there I knew I was comparatively safe, 
as there was no telegraph between that place and Chat- 
tanooga, though there was one from Augusta to Atlanta. 

It was daylight when we left Atlanta, so that further 
concealment was impossible. My fellow passengers ex- 
pressed considerable surprise at seeing me, and were 
anxious to know where I was going. I informed them 
that I was going to Chatta;iooga, as usual, to purchase a 
large quantity of bacon, in which I was dealing exten- 
sively. Men of my acquaintance, whom I knew to be in 
the same business, were also going after bacon, beef, pork, 
flour, and grain, and such other provisions as we were 
forced to. purchase in the more northern States 

We all talked secession loudly ; and wore cockades, 
and invoked destruction upon the Federal government j 



248 PLUCK ON THE FRONTIER. 

and none were more violent in the discussion than T. It 
was my only alternative. I was fleeing for life, and the 
merest hair might turn the race against me. When we 
arrived at Chattanooga, we found the markets almost as 
high as at Augusta, so we concluded to go on as far as 
Nashville. On our arrival there we found that the Com- 
missary of the Confederate army had fairly skinned the 
town of everything worth having in the way of provisions, 
so there was nothing left for us but to go on as far as 
Louisville, where we could obtain an unlimited supply at 
reasonable rates. 

There were five cars of us all going for provisions. 
At last we landed in Louisville, and found to our disap- 
pointment (?)* the inducements were so small for buying 
there, the only alternative left was to go to the great 
fountain head at Cincinnati, and buy what we wanted. 
We all went across the river into Indiana, and every soul 
of us got abpard of the cars for Cincinnati. 

Just before the train was about to start, an old man 
arose and made this remark : " Gentlemen, I don't know 
how you all feel, but I thank God I am on free soil once 
more." Oh ! you should have heard the shout that went 
up. Every man of us had been fleeing from Southern traitors, 
and dare not avow it to each other. We all got out of 
the cars again upon the platform, and there refreshed our 
throats for once with three loud cheers for Freedom. 



PLUCK ON THE PEONTIEE. 

Before the secession of Arkansas, one Thomas Wilhite 
attached himself to a company of minute men, who were 
to be ready at a moment's warning to respond to the call 
of public danger. The most of the company were at 
heart Union men, and they secretly resolved to make 
their organization subservient to their own wishes. 
While matters were in this situation, one James M. Scott 



PLUCK ON THE FRONTIER. 249 

raised a secession flag in Cove Creek Township, and 
called on the minute men to rally beneath, it. The mi- 
nutes just then became hours, and Wilhite and his com- 
panions made haste to rally very slowly. In fact, they 
flatly refused to do so, and Mr. Scott's banner hung lazily 
from the staff, looking for all the world as though it had 
been brought out to droop and die. AYilhite had now 
thoroughly committed himself to the Union cause, q^d it 
behooved him to look well to his personal safety. The 
rebel element predominated in his neighborhood, and the 
" strikers" and " tools" of the secession leaders were im- 
placable in their resentments. Kot considering, however, 
that his immediate personal peril was so great as to war- 
rant an abrupt departure from the State, and yet feeling 
that he must never go about unarmed, Wilhite remained 
at home, and prepared to " make a crop." When follow- 
ing the plow, a trusty rifle was invariably slung from his 
back, and a brace of revolvers were belted about him. 
At night the rifle stood at the head of the bed, and he 
often slept with his revolvers on. Several times, when 
in the field, he descried men coming to take him prisoner. 
He would then leave the plow in the furrow, slip into 
the woods, and remain there until his enemies went away. 
There was no danger of their interfering with the horses 
or the plow. They knew too well the deadliness of his 
aim, and the disagreeable doubt as to who would be his 
victim, kept them all away from the peril. 

One day in June, six rebels, knowing that he was at 
home, rode hastily up to take him, but he was too quick 
for them, and, dodging around- a corner of the house, 
with his rifle and revolvers, held his advantage while a 
parley took place. They informed him that they had 
come to arrest him because he was a Union man. He 
informed tliem that they would have to reinforce and come 
again, that six men were not enough for the business, and 
that if any of them " dropped a gun," one man would fall 
sure, and they would not know beforehand who it was to 



250 PLUCK ON THE FRONTIER. 

he. Like their predecessors, who scouted the corn-field, 
they returned as wise as they came, even requesting that 
they might ride away unharmed. 

Not long afterwards, another squad rode up to the 
house for a similar purpose. Fortunately Wilhite was 
absent, but his mother was considerately shown the rope 
with which they intended to hang him. Going during 
the same summer to Kidd's mill, near Cane Hill, for flour 
for the family, a knot of men gathered around and " al- 
lowed" to take him prisoner. On the other hand, he 
*' allowed" that if they made any such attempt, he should 
defend himself to the last ; that he had thirteen shots, and 
should try his best to make some of them "tell," and 
that they could not take him alive. His determination 
subdued the crowd somewhat, and a merchant of the place, 
interceding in his behalf) on the ground that he might 
yet make a good southern soldier, he was permitted to 
transact his business at the mill and return home. 

There was living at this time not far away from "Wil- 
hite, a Baptist minister, known .by many as " Old Tommy 
Dodson, the preacher," otherwise rejoicing in the chris- 
tened name of Thomas. He was a violent secessionist, 
and preached whenever audiences could be assembled, 
whether on the Sabbath or during the week ; nor did he 
confine himself to Biblical teaching. The sword of the 
spirit was not, in his judgment, the only weapon to be 
wielded for the Confederacy. His tirades were frequent 
and unsparing against Union men and Black Eepubli- 
cans, who, if they did not recant, were to be driven off or 
shot.- On one occasion, when Wilbite attended his ser- 
vices, the congregation was quite large for the locality, 
and in it were several soldiers belonging to the regular 
rebel army. The preacher's harangue savored, as usual, 
of public affairs. The secession of the State was justi- 
fied; the public functionaries at Richmond lauded; a 
highly- wrought prophecy of the grandeur of the new 
Eepublio was pronounced, and then fell the ministerial 



PLUCK ON THE FRONTIER. 251 

denunciation on all tliose who still clung to the old go- 
vernment. Warming with his" subject,, and evidently 
growing indignant, he exclaimed— 

" If there is a Union man within the sound of my voice, 
I want him to leave the house, and leave it now — a." 

Thinking it about time to depart, and having no re- 
luctance to define his position, Wilhite started for the 
door. 

" Then, go — a," resumed the excited and now somewhat 
exhausted preacher, moving towards the retreating Fed- 
eral, " and darken not again the house of God. And do 
you, .my brave boys," pointing to the rebel soldiers, 
"fight on for the glo-o-o-rious Southern Confederacy^. 
The Lord is on our side. The Lord will help us to gam 
the independence of the South." By this time Wilhite 
was in the yard, and the Eev. Thomas Dodson began 
slowly to return to his normal condition. Eighteen 
months later, the same clerical gentleman was an inmate 
of the guard-house at Fayetteville, under charges for trial 
before a military commission, to sit at Springfield, and 
Wilhite was officer of the guard. 

Alas ! the mutations of sublunary affairs. 

The summer and autumn passed without any special 
peril to Wilhite, other than that referred to, except that 
the necessity for vigilance was greater, so much, in fact, 
that in November he was compelled to " lay out." Anti- 
cipating a winter of trouble, unless he were to take un- 
usual precautions against it, he had, by night, hauled one 
hundred bushels of corn and some other forage to a 
secluded spot -on the Boston Mountains, intending to pass 
the winter in a cave and subsist a. few horses. In this 
manner he lived, clandestinely, until the month of May, 
with William Zinnamon, who, for a time, had been his 
companion in the cave. 

Colonel M. La Kue Harrison was then organizing the 
Afkansian refugees into what subsequently became tho 
First Kegiment of Arkansas Cavalry YolunteerS; and; 



252 PLUCK ON THE FRONTIER. 

Wilhite at once identified "himself witli the project. 
Being empowered not long afterwards as a recruiting 
officer for the regiment, he left Springfield on the 5th of 
July, with Dr. Wm. Hunter, of Washington County, and 
Thomas J. Gilstrap, of Crawford County, afterwards 
respectively assistant surgeon and a lieutenant in the 
same regiment. Falling in with the expedition com- 
manded by Major Miller, they proceeded with it to 
Fayetteville, whence they moved on to the head of White 
Eiver. 

Recruiting in Arkansas for the Union Army was at that 
time a perilous undertaking. Loyal men avowed their 
principles at the hazard of life, and the greatest difficulty 
to be overcome was in getting recruits to the rendezvous 
• of the regiment for which enlistments were being made. 
The Provost Marshal's department of Arkansas, as organ- 
ized by Major General Hiridman, then commanding the 
trans-Mississippi district, was in active operation. Numer- 
ous companies of provost guards had been formed, and, 
under color of orders, were robbing Union men and com- 
mitting all manner of outrages. They were especially 
zealous in their efforts to check the growing tendency to 
enlist in the "Abolition Army," as they termed it, and 
hunted with the eagerness of a bloodhound those Union 
men who, first cautious, and then expeditious, abandoned 
their homes for the woods, and the woods for the Federal 
pickets. The general order gave license to rapine, and 
stimulated the blind zeal of a prejudiced people. 

By arrangement, Wilhite and Gilstrap, having for 
recruiting purposes gone into different neighborhoods, 
were to meet at a house on Fall Creek, in Washington 
County, and there concert measures for the removal, or 
getting northward rather, of their recruits. For some 
reason or other, Gilstrap had departed on Wilhite's arri- 
val, and the latter having with him twenty -eight men, 
determined to retire into the White River Hills and the 
Boston Mountains, and collecting from the adjoining 



PLUCK ON THE FRONTIER. 253 

settlements still other men who were anxions to get away, 
bide his time for departure. At first he went to Winn's - 
Creek, at the head of the west fork of White Eiver, His 
re-appearance in a country where he was so well known, 
and his object thoroughly understood, caused great watch- 
fulness on the part of the secession element. One, Doctor 
H. Spencer in particular, afterwards a citizen prisoner, at 
Springfield, Missouri, under the general charge of robbing 
Union men, was very active in his endeavors to find out 
how many recruits Wilhite had. An old, vindictive 
man, with a countenance that would have betrayed him 
in a church, we well remember his appearance when 
brought before us for examination. He had hunted 
Wilhite and others as the woodman seeks his game, and 
we made short work of preliminaries. Spencer, a home 
guard himself, and co-operating with the bands now 
organized and organizing under the general order before 
mentioned, placed every impediment possible in the way 
of the daring recruiting officer. 

There were now in Crawford and Washington Counties, 
carrying out the spirit, if not the letter of the order, no 
less than six companies led by notorious marauders, all 
of whom were on the track of Wilhite. He still, how- 
ever, succeeded in avoiding capture. His rendezvous 
was the wilds of the Boston Mountains ; his subsistence 
the irregular hospitality of secret Union men, -and his 
comrades, now together and now apart, increased their 
numbers aiid their resolution alike by daring and danger. 
His camp of instruction was a thicket or a hilj, and his 
times for drill the opportune moments when provost 
guards came within range, and his trusty weapons made 
targets of traitors. 

L3dng in the woods one day in August, with six men, 
a bloodhound was heard baying in the distance, and appa- 
rently on his track. Like a general in the field, Wilhite im- 
mediately made " his dispositions," each man taking a tree, 
and re-examining his weapons. Their horses were tied in a 



254 PLUCK ON THE FRONTIER. 

thicket a short distance off, and they now a"?7aited the 
approach. Presently a number of men were observed 
advancing ; the hound had been called in, and they moved 
very cautiously, dismountin"^ ^hen they observed Wilhite, 
and creeping warily toward him. Discovering three men 
evidently endeavoring to get a safe shot at him, he an- 
ticipated their design by commencing hostilities with both, 
barrels of his shot-gun. Wounding two, the third placed 
a tree between himself and danger, and afterwards still 
further increased his chances for life by slipping away 
entirely. 

This attack, more sudden and effective than they bad 
anticipated, cooled the ardor of the home guards, and 
though a number of guns were fired, which but for the 
friendly protection of the forest would have been deadly 
in their effect, they fell back, remounted their horses, 
and rode off. Wilhite now assumed the . offensive, and 
approaching the highway by a devious but rapid and 
effective movement, came suddenly upon his foes of the 
hour before Singling out the leader of the party as the 
object of his personal aim, he missed the man, but killed 
his horse. Several others, however, were wounded, but 
succeeded in escaping. This little affair roused the leaders 
again, and vigilance was redoubled. Rallying under the 
provost marshal of Crawford County, two hundred camped 
one evening at the three forks of Lee's Creek, in the county 
last mentioned. From a high bluff adjacent to, and over- 
looking their camp, Wilhite had watched them for several 
hours, and when night set in, knowing that he could not 
attack, for he had but two men, he nevertheless deter- 
mined to acquaint them with his proximity. Hallooing 
with ail his might, he informed whom it 'might concern, 
that if they wanted him they must catch him, as it would 
be unpleasant just then to surrender. 

How or why, we are unable to say, but early on the 
following morning the guards decamped. Possibly they 
feared an attack ; and then, again, should they ass"lime the 



PLUCK ON THE FRONTIER. 255 

offensive, the disagreeable •uncertainty of the "bushes was 
too fresh in memory to he rashly courted. Wilhite lin- 
gered long enough to see his enemies disappear, when he 
dashed again into the woods. A short time after this 
occurrence, his father was arrested while moving along 
the highwa^' near the west fork of the White Eiver. 
There was w^th him a small boy, who, not being inter- 
fered with, hastened as expeditiously as he dared to the 
hiding place, not far away, of two of Wilhite's men. 
They were there, fortunately, and knowing where Wil- 
hite then was, lost no time in acquainting him with his 
father's arrest. Hurriedly collecting four of his men, he 
started down the Yan Buren Eoad, and after a sharp run 
of nine miles, overtook his father, then guarded by seven 
men. Four of the guards " broke" for the woods, and 
the remaining three were taken, dismounted, relieved of 
their arms, and then set at liberty. 

About this time a warrant for the arrest and execution 
of Wilhite was procured from the rebel military author- 
ities. It proving somewhat difficult to proceed under 
this warrant, according to its exigency, General Hindman 
oflered a reward of seven thousand dollars, and three 
honorable discharges from the Confederate service to any 
man who would bring in Wilhite, living or dead. JSTo- 
tices to this effect were numerously posted along Cove^ 
Fall, and Lee's Creeks, and the west fork of White Eiver. 
Scouting about one day in September, with a number of 
his men, and having occasion to cross Lee's Creek near 
the base of the southern slope of the Boston Mountains, 
Wilhite discovered one^of these notices tacked to a tree. 
Claiming the right to " cross notice," he appropriated the 
margin to his own use by inscribing thereof a notification 
to this effect: That his men and himself claimed forty 
square miles of the Boston Mountains, and that if Hind- 
man and his provost guards trespassed upon their do- 
minions, they would seek to drive them into the valley. 
below, and there assume the offensive. He now takes 



256 PLUCK ON THE FRONTIER. 

from his pocket the Jack of diamonds, nails it to the tree, 
writing above the head of this well-known gentleman the 
significant word " Union," informed " Squire" Hindman, 
that if he wants him he must first catch him, and to be 
careful at the same time that he does not " catch a Tartar." 
The party now rode off. 

A few days later, when Wilhite was lying in the woods 
near the summit of the Boston Mountains, word came to 
him that General Hindman himself had just eaten dinner 
at a house not far distant, and that he was then on the 
road to Fayetteville, moving in a carriage with a body 
guard of but six men. Hastily gathering a few of his com- 
panions, Wilhite took up the pursuit. Bearing still further 
from the highway than he then was, he thought to strike 
it again in advance of the General, but in this he failed. 
In the distance, however, he descried the coveted car- 
riage, and hastened forward with all speed. The pursued 
now took alarm and hurried away northward. The chase 
was becoming exciting, but unfortunately for the pursuers 
they were nearing the rebel pickets at Hog Eye, twelve 
miles south of Fayetteville. Conscious that they had no 
time to lose, Wilhite and two of his men took as steady 
aim as circumstances would admit, and away whizzed a 
ball after the carriage, a second, and then a third. But 
General Hindman was still safe, though tl;e pursuit did 
not cease until the pickets, his body guard and the car- 
riage went pell-mell into the poetically named village so 
conveniently at hand. The pursuers now wheeled about 
and hied away to their fastnesses. 

Leading thus a life of wild adventure, Wilhite passed 
his time on, and in the vicinity of the Boston Mountains, 
•until the advance into Arkansas of the Army of the 
Frontier in October, 1862. His escapes from peril were 
manifold. His superior knowledge, however, of the 
woods, and his consciousness of the fact that nature would 
permit only a few men to operate against him at a time, 
gave him confidence and strength, and though there were 



PLUCK ON THE FRONTIER. 25t 

hundreds of rebels on all sides of him, to the Boston 
Mountains he did not bid adieu, until of his own volition 
he reported with a small squad of men to General Her- 
ron, at Cross Hollows, twenty-eight miles south of the 
Missouri line. As early as August it had been found 
impracticable to take a number of recruits northward in 
a body, and Wilhite had accordingly determined to remain 
in the mountains, annoying the enemy and taking ven- 
geance upon those who had so cruelly robbed and mal- 
treated Union men, until His passage could be safely and 
easily made. 

From Cross Hollows, Wilhite proceeded to Elkhorn 
Tavern, where he rejoined his company, and was at once 
appointed its first lieutenant, a position that had been left 
vacant for months in the hope that he would yet arrive 
to fill it. From that time onward Wilhite w^as constantly 
engaged in active service, always entering with zest upon 
the adventures for which there is so much incentive on 
the border. On one occasion, while scouting below Fay- 
etteville, and not far from his haunts of the summer pre- 
vious, he drove in Marmaduke's pickets, and then suddenly 
"wheeling was off again to the northward. He partici- 
pated in a nocturnal skirmish, and while out made a 
descent into a cave, under circumstances worthy perhaps 
of a relation. 

The cave in question was located about six miles south- 
east of Black's Mills, in Benton County, and was one in 
which men were known to occasionally secrete themselves. 
To it, on the afternoon preceding the skirmish, the detach- 
ment was conducted. Arriving at its mouth, and observ- 
ing traces of the recent entrance of some one, the men 
■were disposed semi-circularly around it, an.d the unknown 
individual told to come out. No response. The order 
was repeated. Still no answer. Wilhite. now volunteered 
to crawl in. Buckling a brace of revolvers firmly about 
him, and grasping a third in his right hand, he com- 
menced operations. Advancing upon all fours, and 
17 



258 A NIGHT ADVENTURE ON THE POTOMAC. 

moving about seventy-five yards into the cave, situated 
on a hill side, he discovered a man crouching in ap- 
parently great fear. Breaking the silence by ordering 
him out, the figure began to move and he to follow. As 
the unknown individual approached the light, the men 
brought their pieces to the shoulder and awaited his ap- 
pearance. Presently emerged a head, then shoulders, 
arms and hands. At sight of the men and their weapons, 
the unknown stopped, while yet midway between the 
upper and nether earth, rested himself firmly on his hands, 
and looking queerly up and around him, exclaimed, 
" Well ! this beats me I" He was beaten surely enough, 
but found his captors inclined to treat him kindly. 
Taken to Elkhorn he was afterwards released, but cau- 
tioned to refrain in the future from running when he saw 
Federals.' Thus far the advice has been heeded. 



A NIGHT ADVENTUEE ON THE POTOMAC. • 

I was invited by a soldier of the regiment of the " Fire 
Zouaves" to accompany him in one of those private ad- 
ventures which were so popular among the men in his 
corps, while upon the banks of the Potomac. 

This kind of expedition always carries with it a charm 
which inflames the imagination of the volunteer to a de- 
gree unknown in the more precise movements of a regu- 
lar force. The individual courag^e of the man seems lost 
m comparison among a concentrated mass which depends 
for its success not so much upon personal prowess as 
upon a mechanical exactitude in its evolutions. 

Men of the description of my adventurous friend are 
generally despisers of stiff-collared coats and close drill, 
and especial admirers of a loose jacket and a " free fight." 
With them a martinet, unless he prove a fighter, is simply 
an abomination. 

In a few words, accompanied by some mysterious ges- 



A NIGHT ADVENTURE ON THE POTOMAC. 259 

tures, my friend H informed me that, throngli the 

disclosures of a deserter who had just arrived from the 
rebel lines, he had learned that a quantity of ammunition, 
consisting of several thousand ball cartridges for musket 
use, had been concealed in an upper room of a house be- 
longing 4;o a noted secessionist and suspected spy This 
house was distant about three miles from our encamp- 
ment, and the cartridges which were concealed therein 
had been packed in small canvas bags ; these bags the 
daring fellow proposed, with the assistance of myself to 
capture or destroy. His plan was thus : We were to ob- 
tain, by some means, a horse and wagon, to be ready at 
a certain point, a short distance from the camp, at sunset, 
and each proceed thither by different routes, in order the 
better to avoid observation, and as soon as darkness fell 
upon the scene, drive cautiously to within a few hundred 
yards of the dwelling containing the contemplated plunder. 
Then, hiding the wagon in a neighboring clump of trees, 
some distance from the road, we were to proceed in such 
a manner as circumstances would permit. In answer to 
my inquiries as to the feasibility of procuring the wagon, 
and the possibility of our ever being able to load it even 
if we succeeded in coming in contact with the coveted 
ammunition bags, I was greeted by a significant wink 
and two or three slow successive nods of the head, which, 
if not productive of much intelligence, were quite indi- 
cative of the Zouave's determination to carry out his 
design. 

The sun was declining when I started on my journey, 
taking a somewhat circuitous path to the place of rendez- 
vous, and walking in an irregular strolling manner, the 
better to escape the observation of the comrades of my 
friend, who were always»on the alert for any adventure. 
Behind a rising and well-wooded piece pf ground, I soon 

discovered my friend H , coolly seated in a one-horse 

"wagon, smoking a short pipe, and at intervals, philoso- 
phically lecturing a ragged son of Africa upon the pro- 



260 A NIGHT ADVENTURE ON THE POTOMAC. 

priety of his meeting us at this same spot on the follow- 
ing night, in order to receive his horse and vehicle, and 
the desired remuneration for the use of them. After 
many doubtful scratches of his woolly head, and singular 
expressions of dissatisfaction — all of which were met by 
great disgust and heavy threats on the part of the Zouave 
of a marvellous punishment to be dealt out to the muti- 
nous ^' darky" if he presumed to dog our path — he per- 
mitted us to depart, and we left him, evidently in a thick 
fog as to the fate of the property so inconsiderately in- 
trusted to the safe keeping of a stranger. 

After a short drive, during which but few words Were 
spoken, we arrived at the spot where we had agreed to 
conceal the horse and wagon. This operation effected, 
we next proceeded to calculate chances. After a few 

parting puffs, H shook the ashes from his pipe, thrust 

it into the pocket of his jacket, and drawing forth from 
the wagon a coil of fine rope, which he hung round his 
neck, gave the word to advance. It was now pitch dark ; 
the distance from the place of our destination two hun- 
dred yards, according to my comrade's estimate. A 
solitary light, gleaming red amid the darkness ahead of 
us, betrayed the spot where stood the building which 
contained the object of our expedition. With this light 
for our guide, we cautiously advanced in silence, un- 
broken save by the occasional snapping of some dried 
twigs beneath our feet, and the muttered malediction be- 
stowed upon it by my companion. 

At length, we came into close proximity to the house. 
Everything seemed to be buried in a deep stillness. Not 
a sound could we hear. Not the warning growl of a dog 
gave notice of our approach. No light was visible, but. 
the one which had hitherto been our guide, and this still 
shone from the half-closed casement of an apartment on 
the ground-floor. The window-sill was about as high 
from the ground as the ordinary height of a man, and 
un4er this we crept and crouched to listen for any sounds 



A NIGHT ADVENTURE ON THE POTOMAC. 261 

that miglub escape from the interior. Directly over this 

room, H • told me, our intended prize w5,s concealed. 

He was thoroughly informed as to the relative positions 
of the different passages necessary to pass through in 
order to gain the desired treasure. The darkness of the 
night was so dense that it was with difficulty we could 
discern the presence of each other, as we lay and lis- 
tened. 

Suddenly there was bustle within and the' sound of 
several voices. The warning produced by the low, hiss- 
ing "hush" of my comrade prevented a half-utte'red ex- 
clamation of surprise from fully escaping my lips. This 
noise of men and voices was evidently caused by a large 
party now collected in the room in which the. light was 
burning. They must have entered the house from the 
other side, and the clang of arms, as we distinctly heard 
the men carelessly lay aside their weapons, assured us 
they were no neutrals in the struggle going on between 
our divided countrymen. 

From fatigue, arising from the constrained posture in 
which I lay, I made a sudden movement, which caused 
me to fall against my companion, at the same time making 
the gravel beneath my feet send forth the grating sound 
peculiar to it when suddenly and violently disturbed. In 
an instant the sounds within ceased (silenced by the sus- 
picions caused by my most unfortunate stumbling), the 
casement was dashed open, and half a dozen heads were 
thrust out into the gloom. A movement now, if no louder 
than that the lizard makes among the grass, or a single 
sigh forced from our beating hearts and compressed 
breath, would have been the forerunner of certain death. 
Nothing could have saved us from the fate of the spy. 
For se^^eral minutes we remained motionless, and heard 
various conjectures among the men as to the cause of their 
sudden alarm. Little did they ima^ne that at that moment, 
within a few feet of their knives, which more than one 
grasped in his hand unsheathed, lay, concealed by the 



262 A NIGHT ADVENTURE ON THE POTOMAC. 

darkness, two of the hated invaders. But we would have 
been found no easy sacrifice. Each of us covered with 
the muzzle of his revolver the breast of a foe, and the 
first intimation given of our discovery would have cost 
them at least two lives that night. 

At length they withdrew their heads into the apart- 
ment, half closed the casement as before, and we were 
again alone. Whether they retired perfectly satisfied as 
to the result of their blind inspection or not, we could 

not tell. It was at this moment that H , grasping me 

by the arm, whispered me to follow him closely In 
crouching attitudes we crept round the building ; each 
step taken with peculiar care, lest any unlucky sound on 
our part should again arouse suspicion, which, in all pro- 
bability, was still unallayed. 

After many cautious pauses and anxious straining of 
eye and ear, we reached the other side of the house, where, 
after proceeding a few steps, my leader halted and be- 
gan exploring with his hand, until it lighted upon the 
latch of a door in the wall. Placing his mouth close to 
my ear, he again whispered me that it was of vital im- 
portance we should cast off our shoes and carry them in 
our hands, as by leaving them behind they might be 
found by the enemy, and thus become the means of be- 
traying us. Accordingly, in a few seconds, we stood in 
our stockings, ready to pursue to the last limit the wind- 
ings of the adventure. Noiselessly lifting the door-latch, 

H led the way into a passage, if possible darker than 

the outside gloom from which we entered. 

Groping our way we carefully advanced, and reached 
the foot of a flight of stairs, which, at a sign from my 
companion, we ascended as swiftly as the imperative 
necessity for a perfect silence permitted. We reached 
the landing, whose extent was hidden in the same impene- 
trable darkness, traversed it for the distance of several 
feet, and at length arrived at a door, which H at- 
tempted to open, but found locked. This he assured me 



A NIGHT ADVENTURE ON THE POTOMAC. 263 

was tlie room whicTi contained the cartridge-bags, and 
not to gain entrance into it would render all the risk we 
had hitherto run useless, as all further attempts we might 
make would prove unavailing. 

At this crisis of our proceedings we discovered, within 
a few feet of us, a small window, which, on gently open- 
ing, -we found led out upon the roof of the piazza that ran 
along all sides of the house. To step out upon this roof, 
closing the window after us as gently as we had opfned 
it, was the work of a few seconds. Here we lay down, 
at full length, for several minutes to listen ; but no sound 
reached us, excepting an indistinct clamor proceeding 
from the room beneath, in which was assembled the party 
of rebels. Kelinquishing our recumbent postures, we 
crept on our hands and knees until we reached the next 
window, which belonged to the room we were so anxious 
to explore. To our great satisfaction, we found it not 
only unfastened, but opened wide, and, one after the other, 
we passed through into the interior. Again we paused 
in motionless silence, and again Ave listened intently, but 
nothing beyond the sounds already mentioned met our 
ears, and we proceeded to search in darkness for the bags 
of ammunition. We- came upon them simultaneously in 
one corner of the room, piled into a heap. We com- 
menced our work at once by* passing them out two at a 
time, through the window upon the piazza roof. Silently 
and swiftly was the task accomplished, until not a bag 
remained. We searched every foot of the floor, travers- 
ing its length and breadth until we were thoroughly 
convinced ourselves were the sole objects, animate or 
inanimate, it contained. 

Passing out, our next movement was to carry round the 
bags to the extreme end of the piazza. This involved the 
necessity of traversing the full length of one side of the 
building. With much labor and anxiety, as we had to pro- 
ceed more warily than ever, at each step, we at last accom- 
plished it. And now we held a consultation, whether it 



264 A NIGHT ADVENTURE ON THE POTOMAO. 

were better to risk the attempt of carrying off our prize 
by degrees to the spot where we had concealed the wagon, 
or destroy it at onCe by lowering bag after bag into a deep 

well, II informed tqc was directly beneath us, as we 

leaned over the balcony of the piazza. We concluded the 
latter plan was the best, and accordingly, my companion 
uncoiling the rope he still carried around his neck and 
fastening one end of it to the balcony, rapidly descended, 
after telling me to haul up the other end again, attach to 
it the bags (three or four at a time), and lower them to 
him, when he would drop them singly into the well. 

We had nearly finished this part of our task, when, 
rendered reckless by the apparent security with which 
it was continued — the splashing of each bag into the well 
exciting no suspicion on the part of our dangerous neigh- 
bors at the other extremity of the dwelling — H flung 

down into its depths the last nine, three at once, instead 
of dropping them singly, as he had hitherto done. At 
this moment, the close proximity of approaching footsteps 
along the roof made me turn in the direction whence 
the sound they caused proceeded, and instantly I was 
engaged in a deadly struggle with an antagonist. 

The scene now became one of the wildest confusion. 
The rush of hostile feet along the roof bespoke the rapid, 
advance of foes, whose numbers it would be madness to 
contend with. Beneath, a desperate encounter was going 
on between my comrade and one or more of the rebels, 
as many a fierce oath testified. My left hand was firmly 
fastened on the throat of the man with whom I was con- 
tending, yet he clung to me with maddening tenacity. 
Keflection and action were the twinborn of an urgent 
second. With my right hand I had managed to draw 
and cock my revolver. My life and liberty were in the 
hands of a grasping foe. There was no compromise 
here ; my life or his ! Pressing the muzzle of my pistol 
to his head, I fired, and he fell with scattered braing at 
my feet. The next instant I dropped from the balcony 



A NIGHT ADVENTURE ON THE POTOMAC. 265 

to the ground where H was battling in close quarters. 

Here I stumbled over a fallen man. In the act of re- • 
gaining my feet, my hand came in contact with his breast 
or side, and was instantly bathed in a warni gush of 
streaming blood. 

" Where are you, H ?" I shouted. 

'' Here." 

The response came from within a yard or two of the 
spot where I stood. I found my companion struggling 
on the ground, in savage fury, with a fellow evidently 
of much superior muscular power to himself. Quick as 
thought my strength was united to his, and witli one 
concentrated, determined, and desperate efibrt we flung 
our herculean foe headlong down the well. 

Without waiting to draw breath, we started and fled 
for life, baffling a host of enemies by the suddenness of jj 

our plunge amidst the thick surrounding darkness. ff 

^' This way," cried H , and keeping close together 

we quickly reached our concealed wagon. To spring 
inside was the work of a second, and away we went for 
the camp. The Zouave drove, and his driving was like 
the driving of Jehu ! 

" I guess i^ would have been all up with me," he said 
at length, "if you hadn't come in as you did. There 
were two of them on me before I knew where I was, 
when I found I'd lost my Colt ; so I gave one a dig with 
the full length of my bowie, and then went in for a good 
wrestle with the fellow we treated to a drink." 

We reached camp unpursued. The wagon was re- 
turned punctually next night, as promised, to the as- 
tonished and grateful darkey, but whether or not he 
received any further remuneration for the loan of his 
property than the safe return of it I am unable to state. 



266 THE TENNESSEE BLACKSMITH. 



THE TEITNESSEE BLACKSMITH. 

Near tlie cross-roads, not far from the Cumberland 
Mountains, stood the village forge. The smith was a 
sturdy man of fifty. He was respected, wherever known, 
for his stern integrity. He served God, and did not fear 
man — and it might be safely added, nor devil either. 
His courage was proverbial in the neighborhood ; and it 
was a common remark when wishing' to pay any person 
a high compliment, to say, " He is as brave as Old Brad- 
ley." : One night, towards the close of September, as he 
stood alone by the anvil plying his labors, his counte- 
nance evinced a peculiar satisfaction as he brought his 
hammer down with a vigorous stroke on the heated iron. 
While blowing the bellows he would occasionally pause 
and shake his head, as if communing with himself He 
was evidently meditating upon something of a serious 
nature. It was during one of these pauses that the door 
was thrown open, and a pale, trembling figure staggered 
into the shop, and, sinking at the smith's feet, faintly 
ejaculated — •. 

" In the name of Jesus, protect me !" 

As Bradley stooped to raise the prostrate form, three 
men entered, the foremost one exclaiming — 

" We've treed him at last ! There he is ! Seize him I" 
and as he spoke he pointed at the crouching figure. 

The others advanced to obey the order, but Bradley 
suddenly arose, seized his sledge-hammer, and brandish- 
ing it about his head as if it were a sword, exclaimed-;— 

" Back ! Touch him not ; or, by the grace of God, I'll 
brain ye !" 

They hesitated, and stepped backward, not wishing to 
encounter the sturdy smith, for his countenance plainly 
told them that he meant what iie said. 

"Do you give shelter to an abolitionist?" fiercely 
shouted the leader. 



THE TENNESSEE BLACKSMITH. ,261 

" I give shelter to a weak, defenceless man," replied 
the smith. 

" He is an enemy !" vociferated the leader. 
^ " Of the devil !" ejaculated Bradley. 

"He is a spy! an abolition hound!" exclaimed the 
leader, with increased vehemence ; " and we must have 
him. So I tell you, Bradley, you had better not inter- 
fere. You know that you are already suspected, and if 
you insist upon sheltering him it will confirm it." 

'^ Sus-pect-ed ! Suspected of what?" exclaimed the 
smith, in a firm tone, riveting his gaze upon the speaker. 

" Why, of adhering to the North," was the reply. ' 

"Adhering to the North!" ejaculated Bradley, as he 
cast his defiant glances at the speaker. " I adhere to no 
North," he continued ; " I adhere to my country — my 
whole country — and will, so help me God ! as long as I 
have breath !" he added, as he brought the sledge-hammer 
to the ground with great force. 

" You had better let us have him, Bradley, without 
further trouble. You are only risking your own neck 
' ^7 your interference." 

" Not as long as I have life to defend him," was the 
answeT. Then pointing toward the door, he continued, 
" Leave my shop !" and as he spoke he again raised the 
sledge-hammer. 

They hesitated a moment, but the firm demeanor of 
the smith awed them into compliance with the order. 

" You'll regret this in the morning, Bradley," said the 
leader, as he retreated. 

" Go !" was the reply of the smith, as he pointed toward 
the door. 

Bradley followed them menacingly to the entrance of 
the shop, and watched them until they disappeared from 
sight down the road. When he turned to go back in 
the shop he was met by the fugitive, who, grasping his 
hand, exclaimed — 



268 THE TENNESSEE BLACKSMITH. 

"Oh! how shall I ever be -able to thank you, Mr. 
Bradley ?" 

" This is no time for thanks, Mr. Peters, nnless it is to 
the Lord ; you must fly the country, and that at once." 

"Bat my wife and children?" 

" Mattie and I will attend to them. . But you must go 
to-night." 

"To-night?" 

" Yes. In the morning, if not sooner, they will return 
with a large force and carry you off, and probably hang 
you on the first tree. You must leave to-night." 

"Bat how?" 

"Mattie will conduct you to the rendezvous of our 
friends. There is a party made up who intend to cross 
the mountains and join the Union forces in Kentucky. 
They were to start to-night. They have provisions for 
the journey, and will gladly share with you." 

At this moment a young girl entered the shop, and 
hurriedly said — 

" Father, what is the trouble to-night ?" Her eye rest- 
ing upon the fugitive, she approached him, and in a 
sympathizing tone continued, " Ah, Mr. Peters, has your 
turn come so soon ?" 

This was Mattie. She was a fine rosy girl, just passed 
her -eighteenth birthday, and the sole daughter of Brad- 
ley's house and heart. She was his all — his wife had been 
dead five years. He turned toward her, and in a mild 
but firm tone said— 

" Mattie, you must conduct Mr. Peters to the rendez- 
vous immediately; then return, and we will call at the 
par^jonage to cheer his family. Quick ! No time is to be 
lost. The bloodhounds are upon the track. They have 
scented their prey, and will not rest until they have se- 
cured him. They may return much sooner than we ex- 
pect. So haste, daughter, and God bless ye !" 

This was not the first time that Mattie had been called 
up ■ \ to perform such an ofiice. She had safely conducted 



THE TENNESSEE BLACKSMITH. 269 

several Union men, wTio had been hunted from their 
homes, and sought shelter with her father, to the place 
designated, from whence they made their escape across 
the mountains into Kentucky. Turning to the fugitive, 
she said— 

" Come, Mr. Peters, do not stand upon ceremony, but 
follow me." 

She left the shop, and proceeded but a short distance 
up the road, and then turned off* in a by-path through a 
strip of woods, closely followed by the fugitive. A brisk 
walk of half an hour brought them to a small house that 
stood alone in a secluded spot. Here Mattie was received 
with a warm welcome by several men, some of whom 
were engaged in running bullets, while others wqtq clean- 
ing their rifles and fowling-pieces. The lady of the house, 
a hale woman of forty, was busy stuffing the wallets of 
the men with biscuits. She greeted Mattie very kindly. 
The fugitive, who was known to two or three of the party, 
was received in a bluff, frank spirit of kindness by all, 
saying that they would make him chaplain of the Ten- 
nessee Union regiment, when they got to Kentucky. 

When Mattie was about to return home, two of the 
party prepared to accompany her ; but she protested, 
warning them of the danger, as the enemy were doubtless 
abroad in search of the minister. But, notwithstanding, 
they insisted, and accompanied her, until she reaqhed the 
road, a short distance above her father's shop. Mattie 
hurried on, but was somewhat surprised on reaching the 
shop to find it vacant. She hastened into the house, but 
her father was not there. As she returned to go into the 
shop, she thought she could hear the noise of horses' hoofs 
clattering down the road. She listened, but the sound 
soon died away. Going into the shop she blew the fire 
into a blaze; then beheld that the things- were in great 
confusion, and that spots of blood were upon the ground. 
She was now convinced that her father had been seized 



2Y0 THE TENNESSEE BLACKSMITH. 

and carried off, but not without a desperate struggle on 
his part. 

As Mattie stood gazing at the pools of blood, a wagon 
containing two persons drove up, one of whom, an athletic 
young man of five-and-twenty years, got out and entered 
the shop. 

" Good-evening, Mattie ! Where is your father ?" he 
said. Then observing the strange demeanor of the girl, 
he continued, "Why, Mattie, what ails you? What has 
happened ?" 

The young girl's heart was too full for her tongue to 
give utterance, and throwing herself upon the shoulder 
of the young man, she sobbingly exclaimed — 

" They have carried him off! Don't you see the blood ?" 

" Have they dared to lay hands upon your father ? The 
infernal wretches 1" 

Mattie recovered herself sufficiently to narrate the 
events of the evening. When she had finished, he ex- 
claimed — 

" Oh, that I should have lived to see the day that old 
Tennessee was to be thus disgraced ! Here, Joe !" 

At this, the other person in the wagon alighted and 
entered the shop. He was a stalwart negro. 

" Joe," continued the young man, " you would like your 
freedom ?" 

" Well, Massa John, I wouldn't like much to leave you, 
but den I'se like to be a free man." 

"Joe, the white race have maintained their liberty by 
their valor. Are you willing to fight for yours ? Ay ! 
figbt to the death ?" 

" I'se fight for j^ous any time, Massa John." 

" I believe you, Joe. But I have desperate work on 
hand to-night, and I do not want you to engage in it 
without a prospect of reward. If I succeed^ I will make 
you a free man. It is a matter of life and death — will 
you go?" * 

"I will; Massa." 



THE TENNESSEE BLACKSMITH. 2T1 

"Then kneel down, and swear before the everliving 
God, that, if you falter or shrink the danger^ you may 
hereafter be consigned to everlasting fire !" 

" I swear, Massa," said' the negro, kneeling. " An' I 
hope that Gor Almighty may strike me dead if I don't 
go wid you through fire and water, and ebery ting !" 

" I am satisfied, Joe," said his master ; then turning to 
the young girl, who had been a mute spectator of this 
singular scene, he continued: '^Now, Mattie, you get in 
the wagon and I'll drive down to the parsonage, and you 
remain there with Mrs. Peters and the children until I 
bring you some intelligence of your father." 

While the sturdy old blacksmith was awaiting the 
return of his daughter, the party that he had repulsed 
returned with increased numbers and demanded the min- 
ister. A fierce quarrel ensued, which resulted in their' 
seizing the smith and carrying him off. They conveyed 
him to a tavern half a mile distant from the shop, and 
there he was arraigned before what was termed a vigi- 
lance committee. The committee met in a long room on 
the ground-floor, dimly lighted by a lamp which stood 
upon a small table in front of the chairman. In about 
half an hour after Bradley's arrival he was placed before 
the chairman for examination. The old man's arms were 
pinioned, but nevertheless he cast a defiant look upon 
those around him. 

" Bradley, this is a grave charge against you. What 
have you to say?" said the chairman. 

"What authority have you to ask?" demanded the 
smith, fiercely eying his interrogator. 

" The authority of the people of Tennessee," was the 
reply. 

"I deny it." 

" Your denials amount to nothing. You are accused 
of harboring an abolitionist, and the penalty of that act, 
you know, is death. What have you to say to the 
charge ?" 



272 THE TENNESSEE BLACKSMITH. 

*^1 say that* it is a lie, and that he who utters such 
charges against rae is a scoundrel." 

" Simpson," said the chairman to the leader of the band 
that had captured Bradley, and who now appeared with 
a large bandage about his head, to bind up a wound which 
was the result of a blow from the fist of Bradley. " Sinjp- 
son," continued the chairman, "what have you to say?" 

The leader then stated that he had tracked the preacher 
to the blacksmith shop, and that Bradley had resisted his 
arrest, and that upon their return he could not be found, 
and that the prisoner refused to give any information 
concerning him. 

" Do you hear that, Mr. Bradley ?" said the chairman. 

" I do. What of it ?" was the reply. 

" Is it true ?" 

"Yes." 

" Where is the preacher ?" 

"That is none of your business." 

" Mr. Bradley, this tribunal is not to be insulted with 
impunity. I again demand to know where Mr. Peters is. 
Will you tell?""' 

"No." 

" Mr. Bradley, it is well known that you are not only 
a member but an exhorter in Mr. Peters's church, and 
therefore some little excuse is to be made for your zeal 
in defending him. He is from the North, and has long 
been suspected, and is now accused of being an abolition- 
ist and a dangerous man. You do not deny sheltering 
iiim, and refusing to give him up. If you persist in this 
you must take the consequences. I ask you for the last 
tim.e if you will inform us of his whereabouts?" 

"And again I answer no !" 

" Mr. Bradley, there is also another serious charge 
against you, and your conduct in this instance confirms it. 
You are accused of giving comfort to the enemies of your 
country. What have you to say to that?" 

" I say it is false, and that he who makes it is a villain." 



THE TENNESSEE BLACKSMITH. 273 

" I accuse him with being a traitor, aiding the cause 
of the Union," said Simpson. 

"If my adherence to the Union merits for me the 
name of traitor, then I am proud of it. 1 havebeen for 
the Union — ^I am still for the Union — and will be for the 
Union as long as life lasts." I 

At these words the chairman clutched a pistol that lay 
upon the table before him, and the bright blade of Simp- 
son's bowie-knife glittered near Bradley's breast; but 
before he could make the fatal plunge a swift-winged 
messenger of death laid him dead at the feet of his in- 
tended victim ; while at the same instant another plunged 
into the heart of the chairman, and he fell forward over 
the table, extinguishing the lights and leaving all in 
darkness. Confusion reigned. The inmates of the room 
were panic-stricken. In the midst of the consternation a 
firm hand rested upon Bradley's shoulder ; his bonds were 
severed, and he hurried out of the open window. He 
was again a free man, but was hastened forward into the 
woods at the back of the tavern, and through them to a 
road a quarter of a mile distant, then into a wagon and 
driven rapidly off In half an hour the smith made one 
of the party at the rendezvous that was to start at mid- 
night across the mountains. 

" John," said the smith, as he grasped the hand of his 
rescuer, while his eyes glistened and a tear coursed down 
his furrowed cheek, " I should like to see Mattie before 
I go." 

" You shall," was the reply. 

In another hour the blacksmith clasped his daughter 
to his bosom. 

It was an affecting scene — there, in that lone house in 
the wilderness, surrounded by men who had been driven 
from their homes for their attachment to the principles 
for which their patriot fathers fought and bled — the sturdy 
old smith, a type of the heroes of other days, pressing his 
daughter to his breast, while the tears coursed down his 
18 



2t4 A CONFLICT WITH DESPERADOES. 

furrowed cheek. He felt that perhaps it was to be his 
last embrace ; for his resolute heart had resolved to sac- 
rifice his all upon the altar of his country, and he could 
no longer watch over the safety of his only child. Was 
she to be left to ^ the mercy of the parricidal wretches 
who were attempting to destroy the country that had 
given them birth, nursed their infancy, and opened a 
wide field for them to display the abilities with which 
nature had endowed them ? 

" Mr. Bradley," said his rescuer, after a short pause, " as 
you leave the State it will be necessary, in these trou- 
blous times, for Mattie to have a protector, and I have 
thought that our marriage had better take place to- 
night." 

" Well, John," he said, as he relinquished his embrace 
and gazed with a fond look at her who was so dear to 
him, " I shall not object, if Mattie is willing." 

" Oh I we arranged that as we came along," replied the 
young man. 

Mattie blushed, but said nothing. 

In a short time the hunted-down minister was called 
upon to perform a marriage service in that lone house. 
It was an impressive scene. Yet no diamonds glittered 
upon the neck of the bride ; no pearls looped up her 
tresses ; but a pure love glowed within her heart as she 
gave utterance to a vow which was registered in heaven. 

Bradley, soon after the ceremony, bade his daughter 
and her husband an affectionate farewell, and set out with 
his friends to join others who had been driven from their 
homes, and were now rallying under the old flag to fight 
for the Union, and, as they said, " Eedeem old Tennes- 
see!" 

A OONrUOT WITH DESPERADOES. 

, The latent loyalty of Northwestern Arkansas having 
begun to manifest itself in the latter part of January, 1863, 



A CONFLICT WITH DESPERADOES. 2T5 

"but still requiring tlie support of the military arm, Cap- 
tain Galloway, with a sufficient force, was present at 
Huntsville on the 31st, for which day a public meeting 
had been called. He left Fayetteville also for another 
pur^pose. It had been ascertained where the notorious 
Peter Mankins, with a band of desperadoes, were secreting 
themselves in the Southeastern corner .of Crawford 
County, and it was determined upon, "to break up the 
nest." This was a part of Captain Galloway's duty, in 
the discharge of which he was to receive co-operation 
from Captain Kobert E. Travis, of the same regiment; 
who had magnanimously offered to go as a spy into the 
dangerous cane. 

Born in or near Indianapolis, Ind., and passing his entire 
life in the West, Captain Travis, at the breaking out of 
the rebellion, was a dealer in stock in Northern Missouri. 
For a time, employed as a spy for the original army of 
the Southwest, he afterwards enlisted as a private in a 
company of the first Arkansas cavalry. Subsequently 
receiving authority to raise a company, he did so, and at 
the time of which we speak was commanding a squadron. 
We well remember the appearance of the captain in our 
office the afternoon of his departure. Dropping in but 
for a moment, he pleasantly drew our attention to his 
habit, now completely that of a backwoodsman. Every 
garment of the army blue had disappeared, and we could 
not help thinking of Joseph's coat of many colors. No 
spy was ever more appropriately clothed. Suggesting 
that he be very cautious, for he was about to deal with 
the most desperate men on the border, and wishing him 
a successful enterprise and a safe return, he left the 
room. 

We now quote from the report of Captain Galloway to 
Colonel Harrison, commanding the post at Fayetteville. 

" The first night after leaving I encamped on the 
Huntsville road, about two miles from that place. The 
next day I reached Huntsville at 11 o'clock A. M. There 



21 G A CONFLICT WITH DESPERADOES. 

being no rebels in force in the vicinity of tlie town, I 
remained there until the morning of the 1st inst., at which 
time, in obedience to your order, received at Huntsville, I 
started for Williams' farm. A little while after dark, of 
the same day, I reached Allison Hill's farm, about eigh- 
teen miles distant from Ozark, and twenty-five miles 
from Williams' farm, to which I intended to go. There 
it was rumored that there were one hundred rebels in 
Ozark, and three steamers above the place. I proceeded 
at once to Ozark, arriving just at break of day. I 
there found a rebel captain, whom, with a lieutenant I 
had captured the day before, I paroled. I also paroled 
four rebel privates. I remained at Ozark until 1 o'clock 
P. M., waiting for the steamers, but they did not come 
down, and I started for Williams' farm. When I had pro- 
ceeded seven miles, my advance drove three rebel pickets, 
whom I supposed to be patrols. The advance soon came 
in contact with the main for'ce of the enemy, who charged, 
and it fell back to the main column of my forces, 
now forming in an advantageous position. The enemy 
came up to within one hundred and fifty yards of my 
.line and opened, when the contest fairly commenced. 
After thirty minutes' severe fighting I repulsed him with 
loss. At this time I would have charged had I not 
feared an ambuscade. The enemy retreated with great 
precipitancy, breaking into small squads as they retreated, 
which scattered to the right and left of the road. From 
the most reliable information, I found that the rebels 
numbered one hundred and eighty men, and were com- 
manded by Colonel Dorsey. I could not accurately 
ascertain their losses, as they carried off their dead and 
wounded. Ours was one slightly wounded. 

" The rebels were informed of our presence, in the vicin- 
ity, and of our advance, and had been waiting for us one or 
two hours. From here I started to Williams' farm, reach- 
ing it about dusk. At eight o'clock a spy, who had been 
co-operating with Captain Travis, came into camp, and at 



A CONFLICT WITH DESPERADOES. 2tt 

nine the captain himself arrived. They had learned that 
Mankins' band, numbering thirty men, was immediately 
beyond the Arkansas Kiver, and his^(Captian Travis') plan 
was to proceed at once to the river with his whole force, 
leaving one-half on this side to guard the horses, 'and 
sending the other half over the river to capture the 
guerrillas. This plan I considered defective, since I sup- 
posed that the rebels with whom we had the fight would 
probably return reinforced to their encampment, two 
miles from us, and not more than two from the ferry 
where we would have to cross the river. Moreover, my 
men were very tired, as also the horses, having had no 
rest since we had left Huntsville. My design was to attack 
the rebel camp in the morning, if they were not too 
strongly posted, but finding by one o'clock at night that 
the rebels had not returned to their encampment, and 
still considering it imprudent to move part of my forces 
across the river, I determined to start for Fayetteville in 
the morning. 

" Captain Travis insisted on taking the- men into the 
cane-brake for the purpose of capturing five or six of the 
enemy, who, he said, were to meet there to organize a band. 
He wanted no more than ten. I considered his proposed 
expedition nothing more than a small scout, and believ- 
ing that there was no rebel force in the vicinity, granted 
his request. He was to rejoin me five or- six miles from 
Williams' farm, and about the same distance from where 
he was going. He insisted, on starting out, that if he 
did not meet me there, I should go on, and he would 
overtake me. A little before daybreak I started for 
Fayetteville, and having marched about twenty miles, 
halted and fed. Some of the party now came up and 
gave information that Captain Travis and four of his men 
were killed or mortally wounded. 

'* The facts, as I gathered them from the men who es- 
caped, wer^ these : Captain Travis leaving us in camp, 
proceeded at once to the cane-brake, two and a half miles 



''278 A CONPLICT WITH DESPERADOES. _ 

distant. Finding some indications of an enemy in the 
vicinity, he marched until break of day, when he dis- 
mounted his men, hitched his horses, and began to search 
for them. He came to their camp, which was about one 
hundred rods from where he alighted, and found thirty 
horses tied to the bushes. Leaving one man to guard 
them, he proceeded with seven others to attack the rebels 
in their fortifications, whom he knew, from their horses, 
to number about thirty. When a hundred yards from 
the fort, a sentinel descried them, and gave the alarm. 
The rebels sprang to their rifles, and commenced firing 
on our men, who, opening fire in return, continued to 
advance until within thirty yards of the fort. At this 
time, when three or four of our men had fallen, the captain 
ordered *a retreat, and while himself in the act of turning, 
received a mortal wound. His remaining men moved 
him about one hundred rods distant, where, after staying 
with him ten or fifteen minutes, they left him apparently 
dying. They ov.ertook me at noon the next day. When 
informQd of this disaster, I would have returned at once, 
and recovered the wounded if still living, and interred 
the dead, but owing to the fatigued state of my men a^id 
horses, I deemed it best to move on to Fayetteville. 
Intrusting the disposal of the dead and wounded to a 
citizen, and pledging him to attend to them, I moved 
on." 

Poor Travis ! he fell a victim to his own rash bravery, 
yet all honor to the man who could divest himself of his 
command, and so cheerfully volunteer to ferret out and 
rid that section of country of its most dangerous en- 
emies. If he could not succeed, he could fight, and he 
paid the penalty of his daring with his life. A few days 
later, an avenging expedition softened the remembrance 
of this disaster, by converting the block-house in the 
canebreak into a mass of ruins, and driving its hated 
defenders ignominiously across the Arkansas Kiver. 



STEALING A MARCH. 279 



STEALING A MAEOH. 

Stretclied at full length before the most magnificent of 
all the fires, with a pleasant sense of warmth diffusing it- 
self from the soles of the feet along the whole person, a 
party of us lay with a lazy enjoyment of the heat, and a 
feeling of satisfaction with our supper. Each was draw- 
ing upon his pipe, and exhaling a cloud of fragrant smoke, 
except the chief proprietor of the establishment, the 
lieutenant-colonel of the regiment I do not think that 
there, can be found a pleasanter fellow for a companion 
during the long evening lounge around a camp-fire than 

B . Though never out of the United States, he has 

been, Hibernianly speaking, a great deal in them, and 
has anecdotes associated with almost every place which 
becomes prominent in connection with the present war. 
But what I enjoy the most is to set him talking about 
some of his adventures since he has been with us, and 
extract all those details which are not obtainable in a 
second-hand report. As he seems to enjoy the revival 
in his memory of these former scenes as much as we do, 
to whom they are fresh, it is no difficult task to start him 
on a narration. 

The talk began by some remarli upon the character of 
the country around us, which our regiment had scouted 
in the spring preceding. There was a little difference of 
opinion about the bend in the river, and whether our 

picket line there might not be improved. Captain G 

thought that it might, and appealed to the colonel. " I 
think not," was the reply. " I had to study the shore 
there pretty closely last spring to find a place where I 
could cross, and the pickets now cover, as far as possible, 
every practicable ferry. Unless we had more men, I 
could not suggest any improvement." 

"Why," said L , "what were you looking for a 

crossing here for ? W never meant to take Kich- 



280 STEALING A MARCH. 

mond on his own hook, just as he went at Jackson's army 
afterward at Harrisonburg, did he?" 

"No; this was a little affair of my own, when we 
bagged a party of rebel couriers and brought in some 
horses — among others that nice pair of Bailey Peyton 
mares that I had last summer." 

"I remember hearing something about that when I 
rejoined near Seddon's; but we were all off on de- 
tached service just then, and I never heard the particu- 
lars of the affair, nor knew where it took place. How 
did you rnanage to get to them without their taking 
wing ?" 

" It is rather a long story for a man to tell about him- 
self," responded B . 

"Ko matter," I put in; "we are all smokers, and will 
be very grateful if you will take our share of the talk 
out of our mouths. So begin at the beginning, and we 
will take the story, as an artist might now take you, at 
full length." 

The colonel stretched himself into a comfortable posi- 
tion and began : — 

" You all know how the contrabands began to flock in 
to us as soon as we came down from Falmouth to Port 
Conway. It was a sort of second Exodus, slightly dif- 
fering from the first, especially as to color and smell. 
They managed to get to us, not only from down the neck, 
but also from across the river — one party bringing in 
valuable horses, and the others tolerably good informa- 
tion. So we welcomed them all, and sent them on toward 
the Korth Pole rejoicing. One of the fellows from the 

other side, Humphrey, who was with Colonel W for 

some time afterward, seemed to have come off' rather 
against his will. I got into a talk with him, and found 
out that his master lived about ten or twelve miles back 
from the river. He might have been staying there to 
this time, perhaps, if the neighbors had not taken the 
alarm at losing so many of their servants. They had ar- 



STEALING A MARCH. 281 

ranged with the rebel general^ therefore, to assemble 
themselves and bring all their slaves to a certain place, 
where a small cavalry post had been established. The 
general was to send a force to guard them until they got 
within his lines, when they were to be taken to work on 
the Kichmond fortifications, or else sold South. This 
kind of plan always gets wind in some way, and many 
of the negroes took the alarm. Among others, Humphrey 
very sensibly concluded that, if he had to leave home, he 
would prefer himself to decide the direction of his jour- 
ney ; and he consequently stole off' by night, escaping 
across the river to us. Now his casual allusion to this 
post stuck fast in my mind, and I managed to make him 
describe it to me. From what he said I judged that it 
did not connect with any others in the neighborhood, but 
was there merely for purposes of observation. So it was 
just possible that I might steal upon them, catch most of 
them, and be back before there could be time for a force 
to come down upon us in turn. 

"I began to hunger after the capture, and asked Hum- 
phrey whether he could guide a party through the 
country at night to the house where they stayed. The 
darkey's face lit up with unexpected intelligence and 
animation at the question ; and when he declared not only 
his ability but his willingness to do so, I felt that I could 
rely on him. I went straight up to the house and spoke 
to the colonel. It was when head-quarters were at Pow- 
hatan Hill. I believe that W was sorry that he was 

not a captain instead of regimental commander. If he had 
been he would certainly have tried to take the affair out 
of my hands. As it was, he gave me plenty of counsel 
and warning, but consented to my taking a party of 
volunteers and crossing the. river that night. It rained 
hard enough at nightfall to quell the courage of a good 
many of those who were willing enough in the afternoon ; 
and I thought it darker than it had ever seemed before 
as our little party stole quietly out of camp -before tattoo, 



282 STEALING A MARCH. 

and felt our way down to the river. In a leaky boat, 
two at a time, we managed to cross, the noise of the skift* 
in the water sounding to our ears all the time as if it 
must be audible at least five miles ; and just as taps blew, 
dismissing the rest of the regiment to bed, we started to 
leave it, perhaps forever. We had, of course, left spurs 
and sabres behind on such an expedition ; but all of my 
men had their revolvers and carbines. 

" We were seventeen whites^ and had three negroes as 
guides. Humphrey led the advance, I following im- 
mediately, and only keeping him in sight from his wear- 
ing a light-colored linsey coat. How it happened that 
some of the men did' not get lost in the darkness I can- 
not understand ; for I did not hear a whisper sometimes 
for miles together, an.d only rarely the splash of a foot- 
fall in a puddle, indicating that the boys were keeping 
closely in my rear. I believe that, with their present 
recklessness^ some of them would have straggled; but 
danger was then new to them, and they were nervously 
alive to every risk. As we were plodding along through 
heavy fields, over plantation-roads, and across by-paths, 
feeling very anxiously and to a slight degree scared — at 
least I did — the party whom we were going to surprise 
was much more agreeably occupied. They were all 
young men of the neighborhood, who had gone in a body 
from a local cavalry company, into the Confederate ser- 
vice. So they were rather petted and made much of by 
the families around, especially by the young ladies. 

" The sergeant had been particularly attracted by a 
daughter of Dr. Golding, the gentleman at whose place 
the party was posted ; but whettier that was the cause or 
the effect of his selecting that locality I am unable to tell. 
The afternoon of our march he had told the young lady 
that he was going to ride down and take a look at the 
Yankees, laughingly making her commandant of the post 
during his absence. She assumed at least all the author- 
ity appropriate to the dignity, commanding him to report 



STEALING A MARCH. 283 

at a certain hour, or suffer the pain and penalties due to 
disobedience. The delinquent sergeant was half an hour 
behind his time. After enduring a severe reprimand he 
was placed in arrest and close confinement within the 
parlor, and sentenced to suffer whist, singing, and supper 
until the proper authority should permit his release. 
His imprisonment was lightened, however, by the society 
of the lady herself, her friends, and a select detail from 
his squad. 

" In spite of the storm without, all was bright and gay 
within ; and a good many small jokes were made about 
the Yankees, ten miles off across the river. At last, as 
the hands of the clock drew round toward twelve, the 
merry party broke up, the last words of Miss Golding 
being a jocular warning to take care or the Yankees 
would catch them. It was answered by a defiant laugh, 
and the sergeant retired with his men to their quarters 
in an adjoining office. There was a formal watch kept;< 
but,, at such a distance from the enemy, the young men 
had grown very careless. A man was placed on a hill a 
little distance off, another outside the house itself, and 
their horses were picketed somewhere within their reach. 
On this occasion the pleasure of the evening probably 
made the reliefs oblivious of their duty, and that at the 
very critical moment. Certain it is that the guard out- 
side the door came in and lay down without any one 
taking his place, and the outpost, after staying beyond 
his hour, came in to see why he was not relieved. 

"Now, having described the situation of the enemy, I 
shall go back to the history of my own party. 'We had 
left camp at about eight o'clock, and hour after hour 
marched slowly on under the guidance of the negroes, 
unable of ourselves to tell the direction in which we were 
travelling. We became more and more cautious and 
watchful as we advanced, though we had not heard a 
sound of life around us. Suddenly the guide stopped, 
taking a crouching attitude. We all found ourselves in- 



284 STEALING A MARCH. 

voluntarily doing tbe same, though I suppose each was half 
unconscious that his neighbor was doing so. Presently 
I could hear footsteps advancing along the path. As 
we did not wish to meet any one, we of course stole aside 
as noiselessly as possible, and yielded the right of way. 

" There were about half a dozen persons in the party, but 
I could not tell whether they were negroes or a patrol. 
Whoever they were we escaped their notice, and at once 
resumed our course. At last we emerged from a wooded 
hollow, and saw the vague outline of a building in a little 
denser black than the sky behind it. 

^' ' All in dar,' whispered Humphrey, pointing to a par- 
ticular part of the house. 

" ' Is there any fence or hedge between here and there ?' 
I inquired, ' or is the track clear?' 

^' ' Eight up dar, straight up, massa,' he responded, so 
excited that I believe he did not comprehend the ques- 
tion. 

" ' Does the door open into a room or into a passage V 
was my next question. 

"'Right in dar, massa; you jump right on 'em,' was 
his answer, and he kept still pointing to the place. 

" So I posted my men, and then my orderly and I headed 
two parties in a rush for the opposite sides of the build- 
ing. Just as I got to the top of my speed I felt a violent 
blow upon my chest which almost staggered me. I put 
out my hand and touched a picket fence. With one leap 
I was over it, and at the door. My men were delayed 
by trying to climb the fence slowly. Just as I touched 
the door it was opened from within, and I came face to 
face with a gray back. Before- 1 could even say Surren- 
der ! he had sprung back, run along the passage and 
dashed through a side door. For a moment I was be- 
wildered by finding the passage where I expected the 
room, but recovering myself I followed in time to see 
him making for a pile of arms. 

" ' Surrender !' "shouted I ; and, without my really mean- 



STEALING A MARCH. 285 

ing it, my pistol went off. He spun round, saying, ' You 
have shot me, sir ;' but I did not have time to attend to 
him, for all around the room were his comrades lying 
down. I sprang at the nearest, had my knee on him, my 
breast on another, and my pistol at the head of a third 
at the same instant. Just then my men got round to the 
window, and seeing me apparently struggling with num- 
bers, let fly a couple of shots. Unfortunately both were 
fatal, one man being killed, and another mortally wounded. 
My man only had a bullet through his arm. 

" Of course the rebels immediately surrendered, and we 
found that th^e party consisted of seven. The wounded 
man was a nephew of Dr. Golding, and had been one of 
the party in the parlor. I immediately sent a message 
to Dr. Golding requesting him to come and attend upon 
his wounded nephew. At the same moment a series of 
most piercing shrieks rang out from the main building, 
each' woman doing screaming enough for six. I sent a 
second envoy to the Doctor, informing him that if he did 
not come at once I should have to bring him, together 
with a polite request for the cessation of that very loud 
and disagreeable noise. 

" Both messages were effectual. We had the arm of 
the slightly wounded prisoner dressed at once ; and 
while some of my men found and saddled the horses of 
the party, the rest of us assisted in ministering to young 
Broadus, who, as a short inspection proved, was dying. 
It was the first time that we had looked upon the results 
of our work, and it made us look very melancholy to 
contemplate the agony of that fine young fellow. Some 
of my men almost cried. But we did not have time to 
yield to any sentiments of pity or sorrow. We were ten 
miles from the river, with an active enemy not so very 
far off. So, guarding our five prisoners, and bringing 
off their five horses, we started on our return along the 
self-same road. We moved, though, much faster on 
the way back, the ca'' ^ which you may perhaps com- 



286 A DARKEY IN THE AIR. 

prehend ; and as we mounted the hill commanding the 
river, we heard the cheerful notes of our bugles sounding 
out reveille. There in the clear dawn we could catch 
sight of some of our men waiting anxiously by the boat. 
It soon came across to us, and, swimming the horses, we 
made our way into camp, feeling very proud of our ex- 
pedition and its fruits." 



A DAKKET IN THE AIE. 

Abraham, a full-blooded negro, and the only person 
who escaped with his life at the time the mine under 
Fort Hill at Yicksburg exploded, was at work with a 
number of the rebel soldiery " sinking a shaft " for the 
purpose of discovering any gallery that might have been 
" run by our miners " beneath their works. 

The negro was blown a distance of nearly three hun- 
dred yards, and was, when picked up, in a most disturbed 
state of mind. 

"De Lord, massa" — quoth he — "tink neber should 
light — yah, yah ! Went up 'bout free mile. Ax a white 
man when I start whar wese going, and de next I know'd 
he was just nowhere but all over." 

An artist present took a sketch of Abraham while the 
officers gathered around, and the numerous queries put 
to him were rather wittily responded to. 

Finishing the sketch, the contraband scrutinized it for 
a moment, then broke into a "Yah, yah! de Lord, dis 
chile shore — Massa, give me a quarter?" 

One of General M'Pherson's staff. Colonel Coolbaugh, 
bestowed a silver half upon the delighted African, who 
made tracks for. the negro quarters near in a style show- 
ing that he was but little the worse for his aerial voyage. 



THE FOURTEENTH AT GETTYSBURG, 28T 



THE FOUKTEENTH AT GETTTSBUEG. 

" Come, Fred, tell me all about that glorious right wbich, 
you know, it was just my ill-luck to miss. If it had been 
such another whipping as we had at Fredericksburg, the 
Fates would probably have let me be there. I have 
heard several accounts, and know the regiment did nobly ; 
but the boys all get so excited telling about it that I 
have not yet a clear idea of the- fight." 

" Here goes, then," said the adjutant, lighting a fresh 
cigar. *' It will serve to pass away time, which hangs so 
heavy on our hands in this dreary hospital." 

" We were not engaged on the first day of the fight, 
July 1, 1863, but were on the march for Gettysburg that 
day. All the afternoon we heard the cannonading grow- 
ing more and more distinct as we approached the town, 
and as we came on the field at night learned that the 
First and Eleventh corps had fought hard, suffered much, 
and been driven back outside the town with the loss of 
Major-General Keynolds, who, it was generally said, 
brought on an engagement too hastily with Lee's whole 
army. We bi/ouacked on the field that night. 

" About nine o'clock the next, morning we moved up 
to the front, and by ten o'clock the enemy's shells were 
falling around us. Captain Coit had a narrow escape 
here. We had just stacked arms and were resting, when 
a runaway horse, frightened by the shelling, came full 
tilt at him ; 'twas ' heavy cavalry ' against 'light infantry ;' 
but Coit had presence of mind enough to draw his sword, 
and bringing it to a point it entered the animal's belly. 
The shock knocked Coit over, and he was picked up 
senseless, with a terribly battered face, and carried to the 
rear." 

'' By the way, Fred, is it not singular that he should 
have recovered so quickly and completely from such, a 
severe blow ?" 



23 8 THE FOURTEENTH AT GETTYSBURG. 

"Indeed it is. He is as handsome as ever; "but to go 
on. At four o'clock in the afternoon we moved np to 
support a battery, and here we lay all night. About 
dark Captain Broatch went out with the pickets. Though 
under artillery fire all day, we were not really engaged, 
as we did not fire a gun. Some of our pickets, unfortu- 
nately going too far to the front, were taken prisoners 
during the night. 

" At about five o'clock on the morning of the 3d, Cap- 
tain Townsend went out with Companies B and D and 
relieved Broatch. As soon as he got out, Townsend ad- 
vanced his men as skirmishers some three hundred yards 
beyond the regiment, which moved up to the impromptu 
rifle-pits, which were formed partially by a stone wall 
and partially by a rail fence. Just as soon as our skir- 
mishers were posted they began firing at the rebel skir- 
mishers, and kept it up all day, until the grand attack in 
the afternoon. Before they had been out twenty minutes, 
Corporal Huxham, of Company B, was instantly killed 
by a rebel bullet. It was not discovered until another 
of our skirmishers, getting out of ammunition, went up 
to him, saying, ' Sam, let me have some cartridges.' Ee- 
ceiving no answer, he stooped down and discovered that 
a bullet had entered the poor fellow's mouth and gone 
out at the back of his head, killins^ the brave, Chancel- 
lorsvi lie- scarred corporal so quickly that he never knew 
"what hurt him. 

" Presently Captain Moore was ordered down with four 
companies into a lot near by, to drive the rebel sharp- 
shooters out of a house and barn from whence they were 
constantly picking off our men. Moore went down on a 
double-quick, and, as usual, ahead of his men ; he was 
first man in the barn, and as he entered the Butternuts 
were already jumping out. Moore and his men soon 
cleared the barn, and then started for the house. Here 
that big sergeant in Company J (Norton) sprang in at 
the front door just in time to catch a bullet in his thigh, 



THE FOURTEENTH AT GETTYSBURG. 289 



from a reb watching at the back ; but that reb did not 
live long to brag of it, one of our boys taking him 'on 
the wing.' Moore soon cleared the house out and went 
back with his men. Later in the day the rebels again 
occupied the house, and Major Ellis took the regiment 
and drove them out, burning the house, so as not to be 
bothered by any more concealed sharpshooters in it." 

' " Yes, I know the major don't like to do a thing but 
once, so he always does it thoroughly the first time." 

"It was in these charges for the possession of that 
house we lost more officers and men than in all the rest 
of the fight. 

" About one o'clock in the afternoon the enemy, -who 
had been silent so long that the boys were cooking coffee, 
smoking, sleeping, etc., suddenly opened all their batte- 
ries of reserve artillery upon the position held by our 
corps (the Second). First one great gun spoke ; then, as 
if it had been the signal for the commencement of an ar- 
tillery conversation, the whole hundred and twenty or 
more opened their mouths at once and poured out their 
thunder. A perfect storm of shot and shell rained around 
and among us. The boys quickly jumped to their rifles, 
and lay down behind the wall and rail barricade. For 
two hoursi this storm of shot and shell continued, and 
seemed to increase in fury. Good God ! I never heard 
anything like it, and our regiment has been under fire 
* somewhat,' as ycm know. The ground trembled like an 
aspen leaf; the air was full of small fragments of lead 
and iron from the. shells. Then the sounds — there was 
the peculiar ' whoo f —^ whoo ? — whoo-oo T of the round- 
shot ; the ' which-one 7 — which-one V of that fiendish 
"Whitworth projectile, and the demoniac shriek of shells. 
It seemed as if all the devils in hell were holding high 
carnival. But, strange as it may seem, it was like many 
other 'sensation doings,' 'great cry and little wool,' as 
our regiment, and, in fact, the whole corps, lost very few 
men by it, the missiles passing over beyond our position, 
19 



290 THE FOURTEENTH AT GETTYSBURG. 

save the Whitwortli projectiles, which did not quite reach 
us, as their single gun of that description was two miles 
off; Had the enemy had better artillerists at their guns, 
or a better view of our position, I cannot say what would 
have been the final result ; but certain it is, nothing mor- 
tal could have stood that fire long, had it been better 
directed, and if our corps had broken that day, Gettys- 
burg would have been a lost battle, and General Lee, in- 
stead of Heintzelman, the commanding officer in this 
District of Columbia to-day. 

"About three P.M. the enemy's fire slackened, died 
away, and the smoke lifted to disclose a corps of the rebel 
'Grand Army of Northern Virginia,' advancing across 
the long level plain in our front, in three magnificent 
lines of battle, with the troops massed in close column by 
division on both flanks. How splendidly they looked ! 
Our skirmishers, who had stayed at their posts through 
all, gave them volley after volley as they came' on, until 
Captain Townsend was ordered to bring his men in, which 
he did in admirable order; his men, loading and firing 
all the way, came in steadily and coolly — all that were 
left of them, for a good half of them were killed or 
wounded before they reached the regiment. 

" On, on came the rebels, with colors flying and bayo- 
nets gleaming in the sunlight, keeping their lines as 
straight as if on parade ; over fences and ditches they 
c®me, but still their lines never break, and still they come. 
For a moment all is hush along our lines, as we gaze in 
silent admiration at these brave rebs; then our division 
commander, ' Aleck Hayes,' rides up, and, pointing to the 
last fence the, enemy must cross before reaching us, says, 
* Don't fire till they get to that fence ; then let 'em have.' 

" On, on, come the rebs, till we can see the whites of 
their eyes, and hear their officers command, ' Steady, boys, 
steady !' They reach the fence, some hundred yards in 
front of us, when suddenly the command ' Fire !' rings 
down our line ; and, rising as one man, the rifles of the old 



THE FOURTEENTH AT GETTYSBURG. 291 

Second Army Corps ring a death-knell for many a brave 
heart, in butternut dress, worthy of a better cause — a 
knell that will ring in the hearts of many mothers, sisters, 
and wives, on many a plantation in the once fair and 
sunny S^uth, where there will be weeping and wailing 
for the soldier who never returnS; who sleeps at Gettys- 
burg ! 

*•' * Load and fire at will !' 

" Oh, heavens 1 how we poured our fire into them then 
— a merciless hail of lead ! Their first line wavers, breaks,, 
and runs ; some of their color sergeants halt and plant» 
their standards firmly in the ground — they are too well 
disciplined to leave their colors yet. But they stop only 
for a moment ; then fall back, colors and all. They fall 
back, but rally, and dress on the other lines, under a tre- 
mendous fire from our advancing rifles ; rally, and come 
on again to meet their death. Line after line of- rebels 
come up, deliver their fire, one volley, and they are mown 
down like the grass of the field. They fall back, form, 
and come up again, with their battle-flags still waving; 
but again they are driven back. 

" On our right is a break in the line, where a battery 
has been in position, but, falling short of ammunition, 
and unable to move it ofi' under such a heavy fire, the 
gunners have abandoned it to its fate. Some of the rebels 
gain a footing here. One daring fellow leaps upon the 
gun, and waves his rebel flag. In an instant a right 
oblique fire from ' ours,' and a left oblique from the regi- 
ment on the left of the position, rolls the ragged rebel and 
rebel rag in the dust — rolls the determined force bacls: 
from the gun, audit is ours. 

"By-and-by the enemy's lines come up smaller and 
thinner, break quicker, and are longer in forming. Our 
boys are wild with excitement, and grow reckless. Lieu- 
tenant John Tibbetts stands up yelling like mad, ' Give it 
to 'em ! give it to 'em ! A bullet enters his arm — that 
same arm in which he caught two bullets at Antietam ; 



292 THE FOURTEENTH AT GETTYSBURG. 

Johnny's game arm drops by his side ; he turns quickly 
to his first lieutenant, saying, 'I have got another bullet 
in the same old arm, but I don't care a d— n I' 

"Heaven forgive Johnny! rebel lead will sometimes 
bring rebel words with it. All of 'OuEs' are cawied 
away with excitement; the sergeant-major leaps a wall, 
dashes down among the rebs, and brings back a battle- 
flag; others follow our sergeant-major; and before the 
enemy's repulse becomes a rout, we of the Fourteenth 
have six of their battle-flags. 

"Prisoners are brought in by hundreds, of&cers and 
men. We pay no attention to them, being too busy 
sending our leaden messengers after the now flying 
hosts. One of our prisoners^ a rebel of&cer, turns to me, 
saying— 

" ' Where are the men we've been fighting ?' 

" ' Here,' I answer, pointing down our short, thin line. 

" ' Good God !' says he, ' is that all ? I wish I could 
get back.' " 

"Yes," I interrupted, " Townsend told me that when he 
fell back w^th his skirmishers and saw the whole length 
of our one small, thin little line pitted against those then 
full lines of the rebels, his heart almost sank within him ; 
but Meade had planned that battle well, and every one of 
our soldiers told." 

"Yes," said Fred, "Meade planned the fight well, and 
Hancock, Hayes, and, in fact, all of them fought it well. 
All through the fight General Hancock might be seen 
galloping up and down the lines of our bully corps, re- 
gardless of the leaden hail all about him; and when 
finally severely wounded in the hip, he was carried a 
little to the rear, where he lay on his stretcher, and still 
gave his orders. 

"The fight was now about over ; there was only an 
occasional shot exchanged between the retreating rebel 
sharpshooters and oUr own men, and I looked about me, 
and took an account of stock. We had lost about seventy 



THE WAY JOE ALLEN BURIED VANDEGRIPT. 293 

killed and wounded and taken prisoners, leaving ojilj a 
hundred men fit for dut}?-. We had killed treble that 
number, and taken nearly a brigade of prisoners ; six 
stands of colors, and guns, swords, and pistols without 
number. For the first time we had been through an 
action without having an ofiicer killed or fatally wounded, 
.though Tibbetts, Seymour, Stoughton, Snagg, Seward, 
and Dudley were more or less seriously wounded, and 
Coit disabled. 

"Hardly a man in the regiment had over two or three 
cartridges left. Dead and wounded rebels were piled up 
in heaps in front of us, especially in front of Companies 
A and B, where Sharpe's rifles had done effective work. 

" It was a great victory. ' Fredericksburg on the other 
leg,' as the boys said. The rebel prisoners told us their 
leaders assured' them that they would only meet the 
Pennsylvania militia ; but when they saw that d — d ace 
of clubs (the trefoil badge of the Second Corps) a cry 
went through their lines — ■ 

" ' The Army of the Potomac, by Heaven I' 

" So ended the battle of Gettysburg, and the sun sank 
to rest that night on a battle-field that had proved that 
the Army of the Potomac could and would save the 
people of the North from invasion whenever and wherever 
they may be assailed. 

" ' Long shall the tale be told, 
Yea, when our babes are old.' " 

" Pshaw, Fred ! you are getting sentimental. Let's go 
out in the air and have another cigar." 



THE WAT JOE ALLEN BUEIED YAITDEGEIFT. 

" I promised to tell you something about Aldie and 
Upperville," said the adjutant; "we did not go into the 
fight ourselves, being for the first time kept in reserve ; 



294 THE WAY JOE ALLEN BURIED VANDEGRIFT. 

but after we had finisTied driving the enemy, and began 
to move back to the army, our brigade had the honor of 
covering the rear, when wg had some tolerably sharp 
work. 

" You were with us last year when we- had that set-to 
with Stuart, at Aldie, and remember the position pretty 
well. The rebels came up the Snickersville Koad in, 
just the ^ame way they attacked last December; but 
Kilpatrick met them differently. He swept round out- 
side of the town, and charged into the road by the first 
wood. The Tenth New York w^ent first, and drove them 
to that dip of the road where it bends in both directions. 
Here they were met and forced back. Kilpatrick sent 
in the Second New York as support. 

"Their major, instead of leading, gave his orders from 
the rear, which produced some confusion, and conse- 
quently the rebels were getting the better of our men. 
They say that Kilpatrick was half mad. He had brought 
on the fisrht, and now if his men failed him he was lost. 
Just then Colonel Doughty with his First Maine came up 
in perfect order. Kilpatrick rode up to them, and they 
dashed forward with a vigor that was irresistible. Eight 
before them they swept the rebels, past the woods and 
the hollow, and up to the last hill, where there were some 
old haystacks grouped together. Some of the rebels 
were protecting themselves under their cover, and opened 
a heavy fire; but it was no use. Eleven horses went 
down right around the stacks; but even that did not 
. check the Maine fellows. Closing in, they drove the 
enemy away, and, fighting hand to hand, forced them 
down the steep into the hollow beyond. 

"It was terribly close work ; Kilpatrick himself was, they 
say, once surrounded and a prisoner, but he was cut out 
before he could be fairly taken. That fine old soldier, 
Colonel Doughty, got in too deep. The rebels ordered 
him to yield,. but he refused. If he had had his own 
horsC; which was so perfectly trained that he could do 



THE WAY JOE ALLEN" BURIED VANDEGRIFT. 295 

anything, the old man would have succeeded in keeping 
a clear place around him, and would have cut his way 
through ; but the animal on which he was mounted was 
inferior in s,trength and activity to the emergency. THe 
rebels pressed in upon him, and the brave old man, 
fighting to the last, went down. There -was no holding 
the Maine boys after that. The rebels were driven well 
down the hill, our artillery got into position and raked 
them fearfully, and for a mile or two it was a perfect rout. 

" The rebels cut across the Middlebury Eoad, which, 
through Duf&e's misfortune that morning, was free. Ke- 
inforcements coming up enabled them to get into order 
again, and hold us for a while. Once again there was 
severe fighting, and again they had to fall back, though 
this time in a little better order. Still, each attack shook 
them more and more. At last they began retreating ra- 
pidly, leaving us a gun. 

'" After two days' fighting, all in our favor, they- were 
forced to make a stand at IJpperville, in order to secure 
their line of retreat through Ashby's Gap. All along the 
stone-walls by the roadside, they dismounted sharp- 
shooters, and wherever they deployed, they protected 
themselves by similar breastworks. Kilpatrick took the 
same precaution on the road, and it saved him from some 
trouble. His column charging past the sharpshooters, 
caught such a heavy fire that it had to fall back, and 
Stuart's men charged in their turn. Then our carbineers 
let them have it with terrible effect, weeding out their 
squadrons effectually. Over the stone-walls, and through 
the inclosures our men went at them, sometimes throwing 
down the fences, at others going over them. The fight- 
ing was something like Brandy Station, though we had 
more decidedly the advantage. The rebels lost very se- 
verely. They never succeeded in fairly meeting a charge. 
From hill to hill they went, leaving another piece in our 
hands, and at last were driven pell-mell into the Gap. It 
was not^ until they reached the other side, and were co- 



296 THE WAY JOE ALLEN BURIED VANDEGRIFT. 

vered by their infantry and artillery, that they were able 
to make a stand. 

" Kilpatrick's brigade had the work that day all to it- 
self; and they did it so thoroughly that we in the reserve* 
had nothing to do but to follow up. The next morning, 
Pleasanton having found out alL he wanted to know, and 
done what he wanted, gave orders to fall back to our 
position, covering the march of the army. 

"Our brigade now took the rear of the column; the 
Pirst Pennsylvania and First New Jersey, with some of 
the Third Pennsylvania, being deployed as skirmishers. 
As soon as the rebels discovered that we were actually 
retiring, they came swarming out of the Gap. They had 
received such a lesson, however, that it was not until after 
we had passed through Upperville that they attempted 
to close. Here they came out suddenly, wheeling from 
behind a hill, and charged. It was a very distinguished 
failure. They rode in toward our skirmishers as if fully 
determined to break through ; but Lucas opened such a 
scathing fire upon them that they reeled back in dismay. 

" Among our skirmishers that day, Private Yandegrift, 
of Company D, particularly distinguished himself. All 
our men were cool and daring, keeping their positions 
steadily, but he fought with marked judgment, never 
throwing away his fire, and always the nearest man to 
the enemy. Close to his side fought Joseph Allen, of 
Company F, a reckless, warm-hearted, light-headed boy. 
I do not know that they fought really better than others, 
but they happened to catch my eye, and subsequent 
events impressed their names on my memory. Curiously 
enough, the storm of bullets fired by the rebels did not 
inj ure a man of our line. Their skirmishers were nervous 
and fired wild, while the aim of our men was unusually 
fatal. 

" At last the rebels brought up some artillery, and began 
firing shells at our skirmishers, while their men kept 
carefully out of range. One shell burst under the horse 



THE WAY JOE ALLEN BURIED VANDEGRIFT, 297 

of Captain Englebert, of the Third Pennsylvania, curiously 
enough without harming horse or rider. Another struck 
Yandes^rift in the side, tearing^ throuo^h him without ex- 
ploding. As he fell, Allen sprang to the ground, seized 
him, and placed his body carefully by the fence. At 
this moment the rebels made another abortive chars^e, 
and Allen had to remount. This was near the Dover 
Mills, on the Middleburg Eoad, and terminated their 
attempt at pursuit. Leaving this body behind seemed to 
weigh upon Joe's mind. He kept as far in the rear as 
he could through the whole after-movement. 

" When the regiment halted, he came up to Ca,ptain 
Lucas and begged permission to bring it in. The Cap- 
tain gave leave, if the body did not lie inside the rebel 
lines, and if he could find any men to accompany him. 
Craven, of Company A, immediately volunteered. A 
Pennsylvania man also pressed forward, as did two other 
Jersey men. These fi"ve mounted and quietly advanced 
toward the rebel forces. Managing to avoid an outlying 
picket, they stole through the woods until they were 
close upon the spot where lay Yandegrift's body, partially 
hidden by the fence. There, within one hundred yards, 
stretched the enemy's skirmish line, with no obstruction 
intervening between them and the body. 

"'No matter,' said our men to each other, 'it lies 
without the lines, and we can get it without disobeying 
orders.' 

"So suddenly they rode out of the woods and spread 
themselves before the body. As they did so. Craven 
dismounted and lifted the body on his horse. The move- 
ment so paralyzed the rebels that they were unable to fire 
until after he had done this. Then, as he remounted, they 
delivered a hasty and ineffectual fire. Without returning 
it our men wheeled and dashed back into cover with the 
burden for which they had risked so much. Half sadly, 
half triumphantly, they bore it back to camp ; and as 
they laid it in a decent grave felt a soldier's satisfaction 



298 BRAGG AND HIS HIGH PRIVATE. 

that their comrade obtained a proper resting-place from 
their hands, instead of being Tumbled into a ditch by the 
enemy, or left unburied, a prey to unclean beasts and the 
foul birds of prey." 



BEAGG AND HIS HIGH PEIVATE. 

While Bragg's troops were on their retreat from Mur- 
freesborough, Tenn., ragged, hungry, and weary, they 
straggled along the road for miles, with an eye to their 
own comfort, but a most unmilitary neglect of rules and 
regulations. Presently one of them espied, in the woods 
near by, a miserable broken-down mule, which he at 
once seized and proceeded to put to his use, by improvis- 
ing, from stray pieces of rope, a halter and stirrups. 
This done, he mounted with grim satisfaction, and pur- 
sued his way. He was a wild Texas tatterdemalion, 
bareheaded, barefooted, and wore in lieu of a coat a rusty- 
looking hunting-shirt. With hair unkempt, beard un- 
shorn, and face unwashed, his appearance was grotesque 
enough ; but, to add to it, he drew from some receptacle 
his corn-cob pipe, and made perfect his happiness by 
indulging in a comfortable smoke. * 

While thus sauntering along, a company of bestarred 
and bespangled horsemen — Getieral Bragg and staff — 
rode up, and were about to pass on, when the rather un- 
usual appearance of the man attracted their notice. The 
object of their attention, however, apparently neither 
knew nor cared to know them, but looked and smoked 
ahead with careless indifference. 

" Who are you ?" asked the Major-general. 

" Nobody," was the answer. 

" Where did you come from ?" 

" Nowhere." 

" Where are you going ?" 

"I don't know." 



THE RIGHT MAN IN THE RIGHT PLACE. 299 

" Where do you belong?" 

" Don't belong anywhere." 

"Don't you belong to Bragg's army?" 

"Bragg's army! "Bragg's army!" replied the chap. 
" Why, he's got no army !' One half he shot in Kentucky, 
and the other half has just been whipped to death at 
Murfreesborough." 

Bragg asked no more questions, but turned and spur- 
red away. 



THE EIGHT MAN IN THE EIGHT PLACE. 

For some time the Army of the Cumberland knew a 
jovial, smiling, wide-awake personage (a native of the 
" Green Isle," but who is remarkably well cut-and-dried 
and seasoned, nevertheless) by the name of M. E. Joyce. 
He corresponded for different Northern papers, visited 
around among the camps, was always in with his laugh 
and his story, and as fond of accompanying an expedi- 
tion, sharing danger, and having a rough time, as " any 
other man." 

Who of our army of&cers does not remember little 
Joyce — or " Jice," as we termed him ? That he was use- 
ful as well as ornamental, and that his brains were put 
in pretty nearly t^e right place, let the following facts be 
ample proof. 

In November, '63, while plodding in the vicinity of 
Nashville, crossing over from one camp to another, our 
hero was picked up, or, rather, pulled down, from his 
horse by some rebel guerrillas or patrols. He was rather 
taken aback ; but for an instant only. He was soon 
entirely " aisy " with them— telling them all sorts of a 
story, and, as he states it, "letting on secesh like the 

d 1," as a butternut citizen. Satisfied that he was " a 

good enough Morgan " for them, he was not retained long ; 



300 THE RIGHT MAN IN THE RIGHT PLACE. 

and he hastily scrambled back to the city highly elated 
with his adventure. 

''Hark'ee, now, Joyce; you are just my man," said 
Colonel Truesdail. "You can go to Murfreesborough 
without any trouble — can get me the information we 
desire. I will get you a good horse and outfit, and pay 
you three hundred dollars for the trip, if you are quick 
and smart." 

The newspaper-man's chuckle rounded into an atten- 
tive period, as he pondered over the idea, and heard all 
about the " how to do it " from the Chief of Police. ^ He 
was to ride boldly up to the rebel lines and claim to be 
the regular correspondent of the Cincinnati " Enquirer " 
— a man of conservative sentiments, who was friendly to 
the South, was opposed to the war, was in the Union 
army as regular correspondent, had written sonoyething to 
offend General Kosecrans, and the latter had imprisoned 
and abused him; and he was now determined to injure 
Eosecrans and his crowd all he could. Joyce liked the 
idea. It was novel and feasible — would take him into 
tall company, and would pay well. Joyce, therefore, 
prepared ; and about the 25th he sallied forth as boldly 
as would the knight of La Mancha, and as happy as 
Sancho, his squire, when at his best estate as " governor 
of an island." 

The joke and Joyce succeeded admirably. He was 
taken to Murfreesborough, and into the august presence 
of Bragg. He told his tale with an air of injured inno- 
cence, and swore great oaths of vengeance against the 
" stupid Dutchman," the leader of the Yankee fenatics 
and cowards at Nashville, &c. His assertions were par- 
tially borne out by one of General Bragg's principal offi- 
cers, who stated that he had recently seen an account in 
a Nashville or Louisville paper of a difficulty with some 
writer of the Cincinnati ''Enquirer," whom the Union 
commander had imprisoned and then banished from his 
army lines. 



THE RIGHT MAN IN THE RIGHT PLACE. 301 

Bragg was not a little pleased at the incident. A tyrant 
in his own "bailiwick," he was gratified to hear of the 
malignant fanaticism and injustice of the opposing com- 
mander. 

" I am glad to see you, sir," he said, addressing the 
humble representative of Cincinnati, " for I respect your 
occupation and admire the men who employ you. The 
Cincinnati 'Enquirer' is the only paper in the West that 
does the cause of the South even common justice. I will 
protect you within my lines, and render your stay as 
comfortable as possible." 

Mr. Joyce was thankful and at ease; he always is. 
He was again slightly severe on the " Dutchman" in com- 
mand at iSTashville, and on the "abolition fanatics" or 
the North, and, now that he was in the proper position, 
it should not be his fault if he did not write home to 
the Cincinnati " Enquirer" some homely truths, pro bono 
publico. His only fear was that he would not be able to 
send his productions to the " Enquirer." 

"Never fear about that," replied General Bragg, "I 
will see to that. My man John Morgan is superintendent 
of the railroad-system in the Southwest, and will get 
your letters through by the first trains." 

Pleased with the conceit, Bragg and Joyce both smiled 
over a nip of quite new and sharp Robertson County 
whiskey. Supper being announced, Joyce was invited 
to the table, and, with the usual modesty and timidity 
of his ancestry in the ascendant, he sat down to his rations 
of beans, coffee, and corn bread. Bragg and his staff 
were there assembled, and the tale of Joyce was again 
"unfolded to admiring auditors. After supper Joyce 
retired to a vacant corner, and with pen and paper he 
toiled for an hour, writing up one of the most scathing 
and glowing diatribes upon low-lived " Dutchmen" and 
high-toned gentlemen, the horrors of .war, the blessings 
of peace, and the ignorance and folly of Northern aboli- 
tionists and fanatics. The epistle was properly enveloped, 



302 THE RIGHT MAN IN THE RIGHT PLACE. 

addressed in style (for Joyce is an elegant and rapid pen- 
man) to the editor of the Cincinnati "Enquirer," and 
handed to an aid of General Bragg's to be forwarded by 
the Morgan line ; and thus ended the task of our quon- 
dam correspondent. He strolled over the town in com- 
pany with an under-officer or two, and a fair cigar. To 
his companions he expatiated largely upon Nashville 
army affairs and Northern sentiments and sympathies ; 
and it need not be specially set down, for aught we know, 
that he told any more of " whoppers" than the time and 
occasion would warrant. 

Next day the man of the " Enquirer," after breakfast- 
ing with some ofl&cers at Bragg's head-quarters, set out to 
view the town, as per assurance of the officers that he 
was quite at liberty to do. The railroad-depot, the store- 
houses, the outer works, &c., were visited, in the most in- 
different and unconcerned manner. Ere long, however, 
some military officer, dressed up in a little " brief author- 
ity," accosted our explorer after items and demanded that 
he give an account of himself 

" To the divil with ye ! An' is it the likes of you that 
is afther stoppin' me and axin' me name an' business ? 
Go to Major-General Bragg, an' he'll tell ye who I am !" 

The officer was not to be .thus put aside ; he collared 
Joyce forthwith, and led him to the provost-marshal's 
office, near by, supposing him to be a shirking soldier 
or skulking conscript. The provost-marshal was of the 
same opinion. 

" I'll send you to your regiment. What is it ?" asked 
the marshal. 

" You'll not do the likes at all, now," said Joyce, " for 
I don't belong to any." 

"Oh, ho! you don't? Then you're just the man I 
want ; for I know of a regiment that has just room for 
you," replied the marshal. 

Matters began to look serious for Joyce. The town 
was all astir, for this was but a few days before the battle 



THE RIGHT MAN IN THE RIGHT PLACE. 303 

of Stone Eiver, He told liis story to the marshal, and it 
was agreed that if he should go back at once to Bragg's 
head-quarters and get a pass, or indorsement, it would 
be all right. Joyce did so; and an actual pass was 
granted to him, over Bragg's sign manual, giving him 
the run of the town — which pass Joyce showed to the 
marshal with oonsiderable glee and, withal, a slight taste 
of impudent defiance. 

After looking about the town, our correspondent took 
the cars for a trip down towards Bridgeport — was away 
two or three days, going as far as Atlanta, Ga., ascertained 
the general condition of the rebel rear, and returned to 
Murfreesborough. Again he basked at times in the 
presence of General Bragg and his officials, and wrote 
lively and caustic philippics for the able "Enquirer," 
and sat at Bragg's table and discussed the war and his 
muttons. And, to cap the very climax of absurdity and 
impudence, our man mounted his " EoSinante"-^the horse 
he sallied forth with from the police stable at Nashville 
— and rode out to one or more of the grand division 
reviews with President Jefferson Davis, Bragg, and his 
escort — Davis being then on his Southern tour. 

It was now time for Joyce to be off, while his budget 
was full of news and the signs were favorable. . Some 
officers invited him on the night of the review to go out 
with them to see some fair maids and have a good time. 
The girls were at an out-of-the-way place ; and the less 
said about their chastity the better — so reports Joyce. 
Arrived there, the party dismount, hitch their horses, 
and make themselves agreeable within-doors. Joyce 
watches his opportunity, slips out for a moment, unties 
the horses and turns them loose in the darkness, to pre- 
vent possible pursuit, stealthily mounts his own horse — 
or, more probably, the best one of the lot — and makes 
off for very dear life. He was fortunate enough to elude 
the pickets, the night being very dark ; and ere morning 



304 THE FIGHT AT BRANDY. 

he made his way across to the Cumberland Eiver, and 
thence to the Federal lines. 

Ilis information was received with the liveliest satis- 
faction, and the joke thus perpetrated upon both Bragg 
and the Cincinnati " Enquirer" was the talk of the day. Its 
importance can be estimated when we state that the Union 
army advanced towards Murfreesborough a short time 
after his return. His statements were corroborated by 
two other spies just in from Murfreesborough, and two 
days after- his return, there came into our lines a most 
respectable citizen, previously and now a merchant of 
Murfreesborough, who also confirmed Joyce's story, not 
only as to his army information, but as to the rdle he had 
played, and the manner in which it was done. 



THEPIGHT ATBEATOY. 

" It was the prettiest cavalry fight that you ever saw," 
said the adjutant, stretching his legs, and lighting a fresh 
cigar. 

*'It was just my luck to lose it,'^' I answered. "Here 
have I been lying; growling, and grumbling, while 
you fellows have been distinguishing yourselves. It 
was miserable to be taken sick just when the army 
got in motion, and still worse not to hear a word of 
what was going on. I almost wished that we had been 
a newspaper regiment, so that I could learn something 
about our share in that day's work. Be a good fellow, 
and play reporter for mv benefit. Freshen hawse, as the 
nautical novelists say, and begin." 

'' Well, we were lying at Warrenton Junction, making 
ourselves as comfortable as possible after the raid, -when 
on the morning of the 8th of June, the whole division 
was ordered out in the very lightest marching order. 
That night we lay close to Kelly's Ford, in column 



THE FIGHT AT BRANDY. "305 

of battalions, tbe men holding their horses as they slept, 
and no fires being lighted. 

" At four o'clock on the morning of the 9th, we were 
again in motion, and got across the ford without inter- 
ruption or discovery. Yorke, with the third squadron, 
was in advance, and as we moved, he managed so well 
that he bagged every picket on the road. Thus we had 
got almost upon the rebel camp before we were discovered. 
We rode right into Jones' Brigade, the First Jersey and 
First Pennsylvania charging together ; and before they 
had recovered from the alarm we had a hundred and 
fifty prisoners. The rebels were then forming thick 
upon the hill-side by the station, a"nd they had a battery 
playing upon us like fun. Martin's New York Battery 
on our side galloped into position, and began to answer 
them. Then Wyndham formed his whole brigade for a 
charge, except a squadron of the First Maryland, left to 
support the battery. Our boys went in splendidly, keep- 
ing well together, and making straight for the rebel bat- 
tery on the hill behind the station. Wyndham himself 
rode on the right, and Broderick charged more toward 
the left, and with a yell we were on them. We were 
only two hundred and eighty strong, and in front of us 
was White's Battalion of five hundred. No matter for 
that. Wyndham and Broderick were leading, and they 
were not accustomed to count odds. 

" As we dashed fiercely into them, sabre in hand, they 
broke like a wave on the bows of a ship, and over and 
through them we rode, sabring as we went. We could 
not stop to take prisoners, for there in 'front of us was 
the Twelfth Virginia, six hundred men, riding down to 
support White. By Jove, sir, that was a charge ! They 
came up splendidly, looking steadier than we did our- 
selves after the shock of the first charge. I do not know 
whether Wyndham was still with us, or if he had gone 
to another regiment ; but there was Broderick looking 
full of fight, his blue eyes in a blaze, and his sabre 
20 



306 THE FIGHT AT BRANDY. 

/ 

clenched, riding well in front. At them we went again, 
and some of them this time met us fairly. I saw Brod- 
erick's sabre go through a man, and the rebel gave a 
convulsive leap out of his saddle, falling senseless to the 
ground. It seemed but an instant before the rebels were 
scattered in every direction, trying now and then to rally 
iu, small parties, but never daring to await our approach. 

" Now, there were the guns plain before us, the drivers 
yelling at their horses, and trying to limber up. We 
caught one gun before they could move it, and were 
dashing after the others, when I heard Broderick shout- 
ing in a stormy voice. I tell you, it was a startling sight. 
The fragments of White's Battalion had gathered together 
toward the left of the field, and were charging in our rear. 
The First Maryland was there, and Broderick was shout- 
ing at them in what their colonel considered a ^very 
ungentlemanly manner,^ to move forward to the charge. 
At the same time two fresh regiments, the Eleventh Yir- 
ginia, and another, were coming down on our front. In- 
stead of dashing at White's men, the First Maryland 
wavered and broke, and then we were charged at the 
same time in front and rear. We had to let the^ guns go, 
and gather together as well as possible to cut ourselves out. 
Gallantly our fellows met the attack. We were broken, 
of course, by the mere weight of the attacking force, 
but, breaking them up too, the whole field was covered 
with small squads of fighting men. I saw Broderick 
ride in with a cheer, and open a way for the men. His 
horse went down in the melee ; but little Wood, the bu- 
gler of Company Gr, sprang down, and gave him his ani- 
mal, setting off himself to catch another. A rebel rode 
at the bugler, and succeeded in getting away his arms 
before help came. As Wood still went after a horse, 
another fellow rode at him. 

'^The boy happened at that moment to see a carbine 
where it had been dropped after firing. He picked up 
the empty weapon, aimed it at the horseman, made him 



THE FIGHT AT BRANDY. 30t 

dismount, give up his arms, and start for the rear. Then 
he went in again. Lucas, Hobensack, Brooks, and Beek- 
man, charged with twelve men into White's BattaHon. 
Fighting hand to hand they cut their way through, but 
left nine of the men on the ground behind them. Hughes 
was left almost alone in a crowd, but brought himself and 
the men with him safe through. Major Shelmire was 
seen last lying across the dead body of a rebel cavalry- 
man. None of us thought anything of two to one odds, 
as long as we had a chance to ride at them. It was only 
when we got so entangled that we had to jSght hand to 
hand that their numbers told heavily. It was in such a 
place that I lost sight of Broderick. The troop horse 
that he was riding was not strong enough to ride through 
a knot of men, so that he had to fight them. He struck 
one so heavily that he was stunned by the blow, but his 
horse was still in the way ; swerving to one side, he es- 
caped- a blow from another, and, warding off the thrust 
of a third, managed to take him with his point across the 
forehead; just as he did so, however, his. sabre, getting 
tangled with the rebel's, was jerked from his hand. 

" He always carried a pistol in his boot. Pulling that 
out, he fired into the crowd, and put spurs to his horse. 
The bullet hit a horse in front of him, which fell. His 
■own charger rose at it, but stumbled, and as it did Bro- 
derick himself fell, from a shot fired within arms' length 
of him and a sabre stroke upon his side. 

" I saw all this as a man sees things at such times, and 
am not positive even that it all occurred as I thought I 
saw it; for I was in the midst of confusion, and only 
caught things around by passing glimpses. You see I 
was myself having as much as I could do. The crowd 
with whom Broderick was engaged was a little distance 
from me ; and I had just wheeled to ride up to his help 
when two fellows put at me. The first one fired at me 
and missed. . Before he could again cock his revolver I 
succeeded in closing with him. My sabre took him just 



308 THE FIGHT AT BRANDY. 

in the neck, and mnst have cut the jugular. The blood 
gushed out m a black-looking stream ; he gave a horrible 
yell and fell over the side of his horse, which galloped 
away. Then I gathered up my reins, spurred my horse, • 
and went at the other one. I was riding that old black 
horse that used to belong to the signal sergeant, and it 
was in fine condition. As I drove in the spurs it gave a 
leap high in the air. That plunge saved my life. The 
rebel had a steady aim at me ; but the ball went through 
the black horse's brain. His feet never touched ground , 
again. With a terrible convulsive contraction of all his 
"Jnuscles the black turned over in the air, and fell on his 
head and side stone dead, pitching me twenty feet. I 
lighted on my pistol, the butt forcing itself far into my 
side ; my sabre sprung out of my hand, and I lay, with 
arms and legs all abroad, stretched out like a dead man. 
Everybody had something else to do than to attend to 
me, and there I lay where I had fallen. 

" It seemed to me to have been an age before I began 
painfully to come to myself ; but it could not have been 
many minutes. Every nerve was shaking ; there was a 
terrible pain in my head, and a numbness through my 
side which was even worse. Fighting was still going on 
around me, and my first impulse was to get hold of 
mj sword. I crawled to it and sank down as I grasped 
it once more. That was only for a moment; for a 
rebel soldier seeing me move, rode at me. The pre- 
sence of danger roused me, and I managed to get to 
my horse, behind which I sank, resting my pistol on the 
saddle and so contriving to get an aim. As soon as the 
man saw that, he turned off without attacking me. I 
was now able to stand and walk ; so, holding my pistol 
in one hand and my sabre in the other, I made my way 
across the fields to where our battery was posted, searing- 
some with my pistol and shooting others. Kobody 
managed to hit me through the whole fight. When I 
got up to the battery I found Wood there. He sang out 



THE PIGHT AT BRANDY. 309 

to me to wait and lie would get me a horse. One of the 
men, who had just taken one, was going past, so Wood 
stopped him and got it for me. 

''Just at that moment White's Battalion and some other 
troops came charging at the battery. The squadron of 
the First Maryland, who were supporting it, met the 
. charge well as far as their numbers went ; but were, of 
course, flanked on both sides by the heavy odds. All 
of our men who were free came swarming up the hill, 
and the cavalry were fighting over and around the guns. 
In spite of the confusion, and even while their comrades 
at the same piece were being sabred, the men at that 
battery kept to their duty. They did not even look up 
or around, but kept up their fire with unwavering steadi- 
ness. There was one rebel, on a splendid horse, who 
sabred three gunners while I was chasing him. He 
wheeled in and out, would dart away and then come 
sweeping back and cut down another man in a manner 
that seemed almost supernatural. We at last succeeded 
in driving him away, but we could not catch or shoot 
him, and he got off without a scratch. 

" In the meantime the fight was going on elsewhere. 
Kilpatrick's Brigade charged on our right. The Second 
New York did not behave as well as it has sometimes 
done since, and the loss of it weakened us a great deal. 
The Tenth New York, though, went .in well, and the 
First Maine did splendidly, as it always does. In spite 
of their superior numbers (Stuart had a day or two be- 
fore reviewed thirty thousand cavalry at Culpepper, ac- 
cording to the accounts of rebel officers), we beat them 
heavily, and would have routed them completely if Duf- 
fle's Brigade had come up. ;IIe, however, was engaged 
with two or three hundred men on the left ; the aide-de- 
camp sent to him with orders was wounded and taken 
prisoner, and he is not the sort of man to find out the 
critical point in a fight of his own accord. 

" So now, they bringing up still more reserves, and a 



310 THE FIGHT AT BRAND Y. 

whole division of theirs coming on the field, we began to 
fall back. We had used them np so severely that they 
could not press us very close, except in the neighborhood 
of where the Second New York charged. There some 
of our men had as much as they could do to get out, and 
the battery had to leave three of its guns. We formed 
in the woods between a quarter and half a mile of the 
field, another moved back to cover the left of Buford, 
who was in retreat toward Beverly Ford. Hart and 
Wynkoop tried hard to cover the guns that were lost, 
but they had too few men,' and so had to leave them. 
The rebels were terribly punished. By their own con- 
fession they lost three times as many as we did. In our 
regiment almost every soldier must have settled his man. 
Sergeant Craig, of Company K, I believe, killed three. 
Slate, of the same cornpany, also went above the average. 
But we lost terribly. Sixty enlisted men of the First 
Jersey were killed, wounded, or missing. Colonel 
Wyndham was wounded, but kept his saddle; Lieu- 
tenant-Colonel Broderick and Major Shelmire were 
killed ; Lieutenant Brooks was wounded ; Captain Saw- 
yer and Lieutenant Crocker were taken prisoners ; and 
I, as you see, have had to come in at last and refit. 

" I have spun you a pretty long yarn, and you must 
feel pretty tired ; but when the memory of the fight comes 
over me I get almost as enthusiastic and excited as when 
it was gping on. I am so proud of the regiment, ofiicers, 
and men, that I am almost sorry for the promotion that 
takes me out of it. Of course, I have had to be egotisti- 
cal, and tell you what occurred to myself, as that was to 
me the most intensely interesting ; but I do not want you 
t6 fancy that I think I did any better, or fought any 
harder than the others. In fact, I know that most of the 
others did a good deal more than I did ; but not having 
seen it, of course I could not describe their share of the 
fight quite so well as that which occurred in my own 
neighborhood and to my own person." 



NOT THE RIGHT "SANDERS." 311 



NOT THE EIGHT "SANDEES." 

Prominent among those thronging the head-quarters 
of Brigadier-Greneral Boyle, in the city of Louisville, one 
morning in November, 1862, might have been noticed 
a bright, handsome woman, who seemed exceedingly 
anxious for the success of some suit in which she was 
engaged. Her dress and manner indicated that she 
belonged to the higher walks of life, but otherwise there 
was nothing in her conducf or appearance by which a 
careless observer would distinguish her from the. hun- 
dreds of others who daily gather at the of&ce of the 
commanding General, seeking favors as numerous and 
diverse as the applicants themselves. The practised eye, 
however, could easily discern certain suspicious circum- 
stances attaching to her, and suggestive of the idea that 
beneath all this pleasant exterior there might be an under- 
current of deceit and treachery. But her story was plau- 
sible, her manners winning, her conversation sprightly 
and interesting. The impression made by her upon all 
with whom she came in contact was in the highest degree 
favorable, and it seemed both ungallant and unjust to 
harbor the shadow of a suspicion that she was otherwise 
than a high-minded, honorable woman, who would scorn 
any of the petty meannesses of such frequent occurrence 
within our lines. 

It subsequently transpired that her name was Ford, 
that her husband was a Baptist clergyman — a man of 
ability and reputation, formerly editor of a religious paper- 
in that city, and now representative in the Confederate 
Congress from that, district of Kentucky. She herself 
belonged to one of the first families of the city, and 
moved in the highest circles of an aristocratic society. 
To a natitrally brilliant mind, strengthened and polished 
by a thorough education, were added the ease and grace 
of an accomplished Southern woman In the palmy days 



312 NOT THE RIGHT "SANDERS." 

of peace slie liad been the centre of a bright galaxy of 
wit and beauty, dispensing to her \ admirers a bounteous 
hospitality, as genial as it was welcome. Now all was 
changed. These social gatherings had long been discon- 
tinued, the family circle was broken and scattered, her 
husband was a fugitive from his home, and she was seek- 
ing from the Federal authorities permission to" pass south- 
ward beyond their lines and join him in his exile. 

Lounging about the same head-quarters, on the same 
morning, with seemingly no particular business or present 
occupation save to watch tl>e movements of others, was 
a quiet-looking man, who now and then cast sharp, quick^ 
and stealthy glances at this Mrs. Ford, apparently regard- 
ing her with much interest. Presently, seeing her some- 
what apart from the crowd, he approached, and, in a 
respectful, diffident manner, engaged her in conversation, 
which continued for some time, and, from thie animated 
character it gradually assumed, was evidently upon some 
subject in which both parties were deeply interested. 
That it was of a confidential and private nature was easily 
inferred from the caution maintained during its continu- 
ance. It seems that, after some commonplace talk, the 
stranger informed her that he was not what he then 
seemed, but in reality Captain Denver, of the Confederate 
army, visiting Louisville as a spy upon the movements 
of the Federal army in that portion of Kentucky. 
Highly gratified at this intelligence, the lady became 
very friendly, and at once invited the captain to visit her 
house. The invitation so warmly given could not be 
declined without apparent rudeness, and so was accepted, 
but with, as the lady thought, a rather unnecessary and 
suspicious hesitation. 

Whatever unwillingness the captain may have out- 
wardly exhibited in accepting the proffered invitation, 
he was not slow in availing himself of its present privi- 
leges and prospective pleasures. Calling soon afterwards 
at the residence indicated, he was cordially received by 



NOT THE RIGHT "SANDERS." 813 

tlie family, whom he found strong in their sympathy 
with the South. Conversation naturally turned upon the 
war, and by a warm espousal of the Confederate cause lie 
soon succeeded in ingratiating himself into their confi- 
dence, and, by way of showing his confidence in them, 
revealed his intention of presently escaping through the 
i Federal lines to the nearest Confederate command, taking 
I with him as large an amount of quinine, morphine, and 
I other medicines as he could safely carry. Confidence thus 
i implicitly reposed in the acquaintance of but a few hours 
I could not be otherwise than pleasing to the fair hostess ; 
I and surely a reciprocal confidence would be little enough 
i expression of gratitude in return. It was not safe; it 
i was not wise; but "there can be no harm in trusting so 
i true and firm a Southerner as Captain Denver/' thought 
; Mrs. Ford. 

' It was her purpose, too, she said, to smuggle through 
I the lines large quantities of medicine,- and at the same 
I time carry to the Confederate authorities valuable in- 
; formation of Federal movements and plans. Her hus- 
j band was in the South, and she apprehended no difficulty 
in procuring a pass allowing her to go to him, so soon 
as the -circumstances of her case could be brought to the 
personal notice of General Boyle. The enterprise in 
which both were about to engage now became the exclu- 
sive topic of a lengthy conversation, in the course of 
j which the captain remarked that he had not sufficient 
money to make as extensive purchases as he wished, 
and was desirous of assistance from the friends of the 
cause in Louisville. M>s. Ford thought this need not 
trouble him. She could arrange it to his satisfaction, 
I and appointed an interview for the next morning, at 
j which she hoped to report the complete success of hgr 
efforts. The evening passed rapidly, and the captain 
: took his departure, leaving his entertainers highly pleased 
j with him as a valuable acquaintance and colaborer in the 
cause of the South. 



314 NOT THE RIGHT "SANDERS." 

The same evening the captain chanced to meet in the 
office of the Gait House an old friend, Dr. Rogers, surgeon 
on the staff of General Sterling Price, a paroled prisoner, 
and then, bj order of General Rosecrans, on his way to 
Cairo to report to General Tuttle for transportation by 
the first boat to Yicksburg. According to the terms of 
the cartel agreed upon by the Federal and Confederate 
authorities, surgeons were held as non-combatants and 
not subject to exchange ; but the doctors, with others, 
found in the hospital at luka' had been detained by 
General Rosecrans, in retaliation for the arrest and im- 
prisonment by General Price of certain Union soldiers 
in Mississippi, and as hostages for their return. 

Their release had been followed b}^ his; and he was 
now, as stated, eh route for Cairo. 

At their meeting the next morning. Captain Denver 
mentioned the doctor to Mrs. Ford as his friend, and an 
intelligent and accomplished gentleman, with whom she 
would no doubt be highly pleased, at the same time re- 
marking that he was on his way south, and it would be 
greatly to their advantage to go thither under his protec- 
tion. To this she readily assented, and desired the cap- 
tain to procure her an interview with the doctor. This 
not very difficult task was speedily accomplished, and 
the doctor called upon her that evening. Some time 
having passed in conversational pleasantry, the doctor 
adverted to the carrying of contraband goods, and spoke 
discouragingly of its policy, saying that anything of the 
kind would be a violation of his parole, and might lead 
to his arrest and imprisonment. With apparent sinceritv, 
Mrs. Ford promptly replied that though an enemy of the 
Federal government, she was an honorable enemy, and 
would engage in no enterprise to which the military 
authorities would refuse their sanction. 

The doctor seemed satisfied, and did not revert to the 
subject, but, instead, imparted to her, in strict confidence, 
a secret of the utmost importance. It will be reraem- 



NOT THE RIGHT "SANDERS." 315 

bered that some montlis previous to this, George IST. 
Sanders had successfully escaped from the rebel States, 
and made his way to England for the purpose of nego- 
tiating a Confederate loan. High hopes of success, on his 
part, were entertained, and his return was anxiously 
looked for by the rebels. Mrs. Ford, with her whole 
heart and soul in the cause, was more sanguine even than 
her most sanguine friends ; and imagination can scarcely 
conceive the bright colors with which she painted the 
future of the embryo Confederacy. Who, then, shall de- 
scribe her surprise and joy when told by the doctor that 
their friend. Captain Denver, was no other than this same 
George N. Sanders, who had eluded the guard at the 
Suspension Bridge, and was now on his return to the 
Confederate capital? She was also informed, that his 
mission had been completely successful, that the loan had 
been taken by the Eothschilds, and that Sanders had in 
possession the evidence and documents connected there- 
with, all written in cipher. She was cautioned against 
hinting a word of it to anybody, or even intimating to 
Sanders that she knew him in any other character than 
as Captain Denver. He would accompany them to 
Yicksburg in his present disguise, and, until that point 
was reached, safety required that it should be penetrated 
by no one, however friendly to the South. The interests 
at stake were too vast to be hazarded by exposure to a 
mischance, which a single careless word might bring upon 
them. In case, however, he should be suspected, it 
would be their business to assist him in the secretion of 
his papers. . 

The arrangements for the journey were discussed, and 
the suggestion of the doctor warmly espoused by^ Mrs. 
Ford. Her eyes sparkled with delight as she asked a 
thousand questions about Sanders ; how he had managed 
to escape the vigilance of the Federals ; by what means 
he had accomplished his mission ; what was the state of 
feeling in Europe, the prospects of recognition, and so 



316 NOT THE RIGHT "SANDERS." ^ 

on. The doctor answered as best he could, and at length 
took his leave to make final preparations to start the 
next evening. Passes were obtained, tickets bought, 
trunks checked, berths secured in the sleeping-car. 
Everything bade fair for the successful termination of the 
enterprise. The night was passed comfortably in sleep, 
from which they were wakened, on arriving at Cairo, to 
find themselves under arrest. Denver and Eogers were 
indignant, but Mrs. Ford trembled like an aspen-leaf, and 
had the earth opened under her feet, revealing a bottom- 
less chasm in which she must inevitably be buried alive, 
she could not have been more astonished and horrified. 
She could find neither tongue nor heart to utter a word 
in defence, and was led away in silence. A personal ex- 
amination brought to light a number of letters and a large 
quantity of quinine concealed about her clothes. The 
trunks were found to contain similar contraband goods, 
and much information of value to the rebels. Grieving 
will not restore lost opportunities, nor bring to the sur- 
face sunken treasures; else had not the hopes of Mrs. 
Ford been thus ruthlessly dashed to the ground, her let- 
ters and goods fallen into the hands of her enemies, and 
the riches of the Confederate loan taken to themselves 
wings and flown away. 

After a protracted investigation Mrs. Ford was sent 
South — since which time she has engaged in the business 
of publishing a book giving an account of her expe- 
rience and treatment under Federal rule. Captain Den- 
ver, alias George N. Sanders, alias Conklin, it is needless 
to say, was simply a member of -the detective police of 
the Army of the Cumberland, and Dr. Eogers, of Price's 
staff, also a member of the same corps. 



THE sharpshooter's STORY. 31 Y 



THE SHAEPSHOOTEE'S STOEY. 

He was a Berclan marksman. There was nothing 
extraordinary about him, except his eye. 

Not over thirty, but bronzed and hardened by years 
of " lumbering," the furrows of his face seemed to partake 
of the rigidity of the muscles that swelled over his tall, 
gaunt form, as if carved out of red sandstone. Not large, 
and never wide open, it appeared to be ever concentrat- 
ing its focus for a " bead" over his unerring rifle. Light 
gray, with small dark spots around the iris, it resembled 
nothing that I can think of in the eye line as much as 
that of a tiger-striped cat I used to have, only that the 
white was nearly white. You perceive that I speak of 
his eye in the singular. He had but one — and. that was 
his left. Yet he shot from the right shoulder, and never 
missed. 

He had a very curious way of screwing his head around 
over the barrel 6f his piece, so as to bring his sole eye in 
the proper line of sight, and this peculiarity had long ob- 
tained him a nickname among his comrades, which, how- 
ever, for fear of offending his sense of modesty, I decline 
to mention. So I shall call him Salem. 

A rebel rifle ball had wounded him in the shoulder, 
and it was in the hospital that he told me the following 
simple but characteristic story. 

As most stories transcribed, or supposed to be tran- 
scribed, from the lips of backwoodsmen and other per- 
sons using a peculiar dialect, are written with an effort 
to give that dialect, I shall, if only for novelty's sake, 
give Salem's story, to some extent, in ordinary colloquial 
English.. 

'' How did you lose your eye ?" I asked him, one morn- 
ing. It was the third day after his admittance, and his 
wound was doing very well. 

" Well, sir," said he, " there's a story to that ; but the 



318 THE sharpshooter's story. 

ways of Providence are miglity strange, and I guess I'm 
even on that eye, if not on other things." 

" If there's a story, Salem, let's have it by all means ; 
I've nearly an hour to spare. So, unless you'd rather 
not tell it, out with it at once." 

" Oh, I've no objection, doctor," replied Salem. But 
he hesitated some time, nevertheless, before he began, as 
follows : — 

" There was a girl up to Maine that I used to hanker 
after wonderful, five years ago. I don't know but I do 
yet, for that matter," added he, in an undertone. " When- 
ever I could get down to the village I was yanking round 
Marm Glegg's — that was Kitty Glegg's mother, and Kitty 
was the girl I took to, doctor. 

**' And Kitty warn't unkind to me, neither ; 't least until 
Piney George come among us! We called him Piney, 
because he "came from Georgia, where he'd been lumber- 
ing in the pines. 

" George was a handsome chap, and his tongue was 
double greased. I'll say that for him. And so, to cut it 
short, he fell in love with Kitty, and ' cut me out,' and I 
fit him, and licked him like almighty gosh, too. But it 
was all in a fair, square, stand-up fight, and no gouging, 
sticking, biting, or other foul scrimmaging. 

" Well, doctor, the fellow bore malice, as all them wild- 
cat Southerners do, and kept sneaking round watching 
me whenever I went down to the village (which warn't 
but half a day's march from the -timber), for I still went 
to see Kitty, and she still seemed glad to see me. But 
the chief reason I went was, because I misdoubted, from 
something George said to one of the fellows, that he didn't 
mean all fair by Kitty no more than he did by me. 

" Ilows'ever, he didn't make any motion towards play- 
ing any tricks, and so, after I'd warned Kitty, and she'd 
got mad, I stopped going down. 

" And soon after, I was taken down sick, and when I 
got up again I was as weak as a cat. 



THE SHARPSHOOTER^S STORY. 319 

" The third day after I was up, I thought I'd go down 
to the, village just to see what was going on, you know, 
for I felt wonderful down in spirits somehow. Well, I 
went down, and when I got there, I couldn't help going 
by Marm Glegg's, and there sat Kitty in the window, cry- 
ing as if her heart would break. But as soon as she saw 
me, she jumped up and /shot.' Well, doctor, I felt as if 
something was wrong, and as if I ought to go in and try 
to find out and set it right. 

"But when I went in, Marm Glegg said that Kitty 
■ wouldn't see me, and wanted me to go away. So I went, 
but I was awfully riled, and I walked back toward camp 
a gritting my teeth, when, as luck would have it, in a 
clearin', about five miles from camp, who should overtake 
me but Piney George. 

" ' Hold on, Salem,' says he, ' I've got a word to say to 
you:' 

" ' Say it, then,'' says I, shortly, for I felt weak and tired, 
and wanted to get on. 

" .I'ts just this,' says he: 'You've been up to Marm 
Glegg's again spying on Kitty and me, and making her 
hide from you, and I'm going to take that and what's 
past out of your hide right on the spot.' 

" Says I, ' George, you know what you say's a lie ; you 
know I'm no spy ; you know I loved Kitty before you 
did ; and if I went up there to-day 'twas because 1 felt 
low-spirited and couldn't help it. But I know what you 
want : you want to fight me, now I am sick, and weak, 
and alone out here, where the fellows can't interfere. 
But I won't fight, that's flat.' 

" ' You- won't, you coward !' says he. ' No, you won't 
now, when I've a chance to win ; but you were all fight 
when I was new here and didn't know your run, and all 
the camp against me.' 

" ' That's another lie, George,' says I. ' But what's the 
use of talk ; you can't rile me, and I won't fight.' 

" And I turned and walked on. But doctor — would 



320 THE sharpshooter's story. 

you believe it? — the shirking skunk come behind me 
and struck me a foul blow that almost knocked me down, 
and that was too much, and I clinched him. But T was 
weak and dizzy, and he had me foul, and, doctor, he 
gouged oat my right eye, and thought he'd done for 'em 
both, and he bit oft' my little finger, and, finally, .he left 
me for dead, and cut. 

" I warn't dead, however ; and after lying faint awhile, 
I managed to crawl along to the edge of the timber, where 
I lay down under a tree, and fell dead asleep, or into a 
sort of torpor, as you call it, from loss of blood and tire." 

Salem had got on so slowly that, at this point of his 
story, I was obliged to leave him to visit another ward, 
but a rest did him no harm, and when I came back in a 
couple of hours, he started afresh without coaxing. 

" Doctor," said he, looking keenly into my face with 
his single eye, "doctor, human nature is mighty con- 
trary, and as to Providence, there's no understanding its 
ways at all." • • 

" That is quite a philosophical remark, Salem," said I, 
gravely, though with a smile spreading inwardly to the 
verge of laughter ; ''in what connection did you make it?" 

" In connection with what I did when I got well, and 
what Providence has done since, doctor. Now, see here. 
When I woke or come to, after lying down under that 
tree, I warn't there at all, but snug in njy hut at camp. 

" And when I asked how I got there, the boys said 
two of 'em found me clean gone on the edge of the tim- 
ber, four days back, and carried me to camp, and that I 
had been raving wild, and talked all sorts of stuff' until 
the day before, when I fell asleep, and had only just 
woke' up. 

, " I tried to get up then, but soon as I set up my head 
swam round, and I had to fall back. I w£la as limber as 
a wet rag. 

" ' Where's Piney ?' says I, recollecting all of a sudden, 

" ' We hain't seen him this week,' says they. 



THE sharpshooter's STORY. 321 

" Then I told 'em how 'twas he gouged me, and all 
about it, and twa of 'em started for the village right off. 
But next day they came back. George had left there 
three days before, and Kitty Glegg had gone with him, 
and poor old Marm Glegg was at the point of death. 

"Kow, doctor, what would you have done if you'd have 
been me?" asked Salem, interrupting his tale, and again 
fixing his eye on mine. 

"Well, Salem," said I, rather puzzled, "I — I should 
have taken legal measures to punish the scoundrel George, 
and I would have assisted Mrs. Glegg, if it had been in 
my power, both to recover her health and her daughter." 

"Well, now," responded the sharpshooter, "didn't I 
say human nature was contrary? That's what you'd 
have done, and what most folks perhaps would. But I 
didn't do anything of the sort, you see, doctor. I'll tell 
you what I did. 

"Just as soon as I got well enough, I shouldered my 
traps and went up to the Aroostook, ami spent two years 
learning to draw a bead with my left eye, lumbering all 
the while. Then I came down to the old place. Marm 
Glegg was dead, and nobody had heard anything of Kitty 
or Piney George. 

" Then I worked my way down to York (New York), 
where the boss that owned the tract I'd been working on 
lived. He'd been up there that season and I knew him, 
for I was a foreman that year. Well, he was very kind to 
me, and through him I got down to Georgia, and spent 
a year hunting after Piney George and Kitty all through 
the timber workings, and pretty much all over the State 
— for I had somehow got it fixed in my head that Piney 
had 'skedaddled' — that's the rebels' new word for cut 
and run, doctor" — parenthesized Salem, with a twinkle 
in the eye — " down to his native pines. 

" But when I'd prospected a whole year after him with- 
out finding a hair of the critter, or hearing anything of 
his ever cominp- back, I thought Providence was against 
21 



322 THE sharpshooter's story. 

the searcli. And as things began to look a little riley 
down South about that time, I gave it up in despair, and 
came home to York, where the boss gave me a place in 
his lumber-yard. • * 

" But when the darned rebels broke from Uncle Sam, 
I listed, and was off with the three months fellows. How- 
ever, I can't say that I liked the musket drill much, and 
so I was kind of glad when the time was up. But when 
Colonel Berdan came out with his call for sharpshooters, 
I was on hand, doctor, at the first trial, and I guess I 
astonished some of 'em with my screw bead." 

Here Salem stopped to indulge in a quiet chuckle. 
Having concluded this, he went on. 

"Well, doctor, I said the ways of Providence were 
past seeing through, didn't I? And the rest of my story 
proves it. 

" In the course of time we did a small sprinkling of 
sharpshooting as you know, till we came to Yorktown. 
Well, there we had rather a tough time keeping the rebel 
guns from being over-crowded, and I guess they warn't 
cracked by too much use ! I dug myself a snug little 
shooting hole just alongside of a scrubby bush, and for a, 
day and a night I had a good many of the skedaddlers 
drop to my account, without my being the least disturbed. 
But the second morning, just after daybreak, I saw they 
were going to make another effort to load the gun I'd been 
'tending to. Presently a slim fellow sneaks out along 
the gun, and I gets up a little to draw a fair bead on him, 
when just as I had him between the shoulders — crack 
goes a rifle nearly in front of me, and a Minie ball — 
I knew it by its song — left its compliments in the bush 
about three inches from! my right ear. I dropt the slim 
chap, however, and took a quick look as I dropt myself, 
by which I saw a third spirt of smoke just leaving a 
small clump about thi^ee hundred yards to the left front 
of my stand. Ho! thinks I, there's a skedaddle rifle 



THE sharpshooter's STORY. 323 

posted liimself there last niglit ; I'll attend to you, my 
son, by-and-by." 

My time was now growing very short, and Salem must 
have remarked a slight symptom of impatience which I 
could not avoid showing, because I was quite interested 
in his tale, and feared I would have to go, leaving it un- 
finished till next morning, for he halted a moment and 
then said — 

" Well, doctor, there's no use of my telling you all the 
dodges that skedaddle and I tried on each other all day. 
I had hard work, for I had to mind him and the gun too. 
However, I got along pretty comfortable, and had five 
mean shots at him, but only touched him once — and 
didn't know it at the time — he was so precious careful. 

"He fired away at me, though, about every twenty 
minutes, lead or no lead, as I guessed, until nigh on to 
evening. Just before sundowm — or rather just after the 
sun had set, but when there was still a good light — I got 
so eternal cramped that t was bound to stretch a little. 
And as the rebel just then showed his muzzle alongside 
of his confounded gun, I rose a little higher than usual 
to get a clear sight— got it, and would have pulled trigger 
in another shake, when crack! went skedaddle's rifle 
again, and crick ! went his d — d ball into my shoulder. 

" It hurt s^o, doctor, that I couldn't help^ giving a- kind 
of screech, and at the. same moment, quick as lightning, 
an idea came across me, and I sort of leaped uj) and fell 
back into my pit. 

"But, bad as I w^as, I immediately crawled up again, 
and just peeked over. Sure enough, .the fellow had bit, 
and was sneaking out of his hole, to come the Indian over 
me, and my plunder. I tell you, doctor, it hurt me awful 
to get my rifle up, and to fix myself for a last shot ; but 
I did it, and did it in a shake of time, too, so that the 
fellow hadn't fairly started to snake over to me before I 
had him. 

" It was my crack this time, and when I looked over 



324 THE sharpshooter's story. 

again, the skedaddler was as flat as a leaf, just on tlie 
edge of his hole. It didn't all take two minutes, doctor, 
I swear ! 

"But I cavorted myself right afterward, and lay for 
an hour or more like a log before I came too. 

" When I did, I took a heavy swig of my canteen, and 
felt so much stronger that I resolved to crawl over and 
have a look at the skedaddler. It was full night now, 
but not very dark. Dark enough, however, to make my 
going over of small risk. 

" So I took another swig, and started -on my hands and 
knees. 

" Twice I had to stop and lie flat for a few minutes, 
but — doctor, you'll hardly believe it — but I felt kind of 
forced, as it were, to go and look at the fellow, and as if 
something was to come of my looking at him." 

" A presentiment, perhaps, Salem," said I, half in jest. 

"Maybe," answered Salem', as if he did not exactly 
know what a presentiment might be. "But, any how, 
doctor, I felt as if I must go, and I went, and I looked at 
him, and he was stark dead ; and, doctor," added Salem, 
with a strange glitter in his one eye — " doctor, as sure as 
you live, the fellow was Piney George !" 

Here I was obliged to leave Salem, for the night, though 
he said he had something more to tell me, which, I sur- 
mised, must be about Kitty Glegg. However, I should 
see him, and did see him in the morning. 

When I came to him, a young female nurse was dress- 
ing his wound. I waited till she had finished, and then, 
bidding her to leave us, sat down to hear the sequel of 
the sharpshooter's story. 

"Doctor," began Salem, "you remember what I said 
about Providence and human nature, don't you ?" 

" Certainly," I replied. 

" Well, after I'd looked at George for a minute or two, 
all my hate went o&, somehow, and I'd have given — I 
don't know what, to have had him alive again. But of a 



THE sharpshooter's STORY. 325 

sudden I thouglit of Kitty, and I thought he might have 
something about him that would tell me of hei:. So, as 
I lay by his side, I felt in his pockets, and, sure enough, 
I found a letter. I couldn't read it then, of course ; but 
next morning, when I was carried to the hospital, I read 
it, and it was from Kitty, and she was on her way to 
Yorktown, when it was written, which was some days 
before, so that she was probably there then. She had 
offered herself as a nurse to tend the wounded rebels, and 
had been accepted — but, from some words in the letter, 
I judged her heart was Avith the right cause. 

"Well, doctor, isn't this mighty strange? And the 
strangest thing I haven't told you yet, perhaps. 

" When the rebels evacuated Yorktown, they left a few 
of their wounded at a small house about half a mile be- 
yond, off" the road, and a nurse insisted on staying with 
them — and that nurse, doctor, was Kitty ! 

" And, doctor," continued Salem, quite excitedly, " that 
nurse volunteered to enter our hospital in the same bles- 
sed work, and she did so, and fifteen minutes ago, doctor, 
she was dressing this very shoulder I" 

" What !" exclaimed I, fairly taken aback by this cli- 
max, " was that Kitty Glegg ? and do you still love her, 
Salem?" 

The gleam died out of Salem's eye, and he shook his 
head mournfully, as he replied — •' 

" I don't know exactly how I do feel about it, doctor. 
If she was Kitty Glegg now, I'd marry her in spite of 
thunder, if she'd have me ; but I said human nature was 
contrary, and — and she ain't Kitty Glegg, you see !" 

" What do you mean ?" said I, quite mystified ; " Kitty 
Glegg, and not Kitty Glegg ! Who in the name of witch-' 
craft is the young woman, then ?" 

" The young woman is Kitty Schriver, the widow of 
George Schriver, or Piney George !" answered poor Salem, 
very slowly and sadly. 



326 THE PROSE OP BATTLES. 

Th«n, after a moment's silence, looking up again, lie 
said — 

" Well, doctor, was I not right about Providence and 
human nature?" 



THE PEOSE OF BATTLES. 

" I would like to see a battle," said a student to me the 
other day, " for through the whole literature of war I look 
in vain for a min^e description of any action." 

We may trace this deficiency to the disparity between 
the writers and the readers of war literature. Those who 
witness and record are military men, either by profession 
or education ; their accounts lack circumstantiality, and 
often simplicity. They assume that the reader has certain 
elementary knowledge of terms and movements, and their 
narratives seem, therefore, vague, general, and unsatisfac- 
tory. It will not avail to tell Mr. Coke, of Northumber- 
land, that the "fourth division outflaliked the enemy," 
for Mr. Coke, having passed the most of his life under- 
ground, never beheld even a militia training. A division, 
to his mind, may include twenty men or twenty thousand 
men, and to outflank may intimate to ambush or to run 
away. 

Mr. Phlog, the schoolmaster, reads in the newspapers 
that a certain regiment marched up in double-quick, or 
threw itself into a hollow square, or formed a pyramid to 
repulse cavalry, or rallied by fours, or deployed as skir- 
mishers, or charged bayonets. But Mr. Phlog, though 
an intelligent person, would like to be told in detail how 
the regiment deployed, and how the pyramid appeared. 
He has been to but one funeral in the course of his life, 
and never saw a murder or a hanging. He wishes, in 
common with the urchins whom he birches, to know 
more of the real and the horrible — how a man falls out 
of the ranks, what hues harden into his dead face, how 



THE PROSE OF BATTLES. 32Y 

he lies among the tangled wretches on the battle-field, 
how and by whom he is buried. In fact, he wishes da- 
guerreotypes of war. When the powder has flashed out 
of the sky, and the tableaux have fallen away, tell him 
how the strewn plains would have looked to him had he 
been there — give him, in a word, the " prose of battles." 

The writer has followed some of the bloodiest cam- 
paigns of the American civil war in a civil capacity ; he 
has witnessed the incidents of charge, retreat, captivity, 
and massacre through the eyes of a novice, and some of 
his r^miniscenees may not- be uninteresting to the less 
experienced. 

The " first death" which I recall among my most vivid 
remembrances happened on the Chickahominy Eiver, 
during McClellan's famous peninsular campaign. The 
Federal army lay along the high hills on the north side 
of the stream, and the Confederates upon the hills of the 
other side. The pickets of the latter reached almost to 
the brink, and the Federals were busily engaged in erect- 
ing bridges at various points. I was standing at New. 
Bridge one day, watching the operations of the soldiery, 
when General Z. rode down through the meadow to ex- 
amine the work. A guard held the Richmond bank of 
the creek, access being obtained to them by a series of 
rafts or buoys ; but the guard could go only a little way 
from the margin, for some sharpshooters lay behind a 
knoll, and had, up to this time, mortally wounded every 
adventurer. The general reined his horse on the safe 
side of the river, and called briefly " Major !" 

A young flaxen-haired, florid man, with a gold leaf in 
his shoulder-bar, stepped out, saluted, and paid respectful 
attention. 

"General?" 

" Is that your picket ?" pointing to the group on the 
opposite bank. 

"Yes, general." 

" No more men beyond the knoll and bush ?" 



828 THE PROSE OP BATTLES. 

"No, general; it is dangerous. The enemj is there 
in force." 

" Do you know their force ?" 

"No, general." 

" Call one of jour men." 

" Parks I" 

A little bullet-headed fellow, whose legs were muddy 
to the thighs, and who was driving a round log to its 
place in the roadway, dropped his mallet at once ; swung 
smartly round, as on a pivot, and saluted. 

"Go cautiously up the bank," said the -general, "yoa 
see it there ; draw fire if you can ; but if there be no 
response, you will shout to provoke it." 

I saw the knot in the soldier's throat rise slowly, as if 
propelled by his heart ; a little quiver c^me to his lips, 
and he looked half inquiringly to his major. In a mo- 
ment he recovered, tapped his cap lightly, and leaping 
from buoy to buoy, reached the guard-post, ran up the 
hill, passed the knoll, and stood with his head and shoul- 
ders in full view, but his extremities and trunk behind 
the ridge. We all watched solicitously and in dead 
silence. 

" Shout ! my man," cried the general — " shout ! shout 1" 

The hands of the soldier went up ; he swung his cap, 
and called shrilly : " Hurrah for General McClellan and 
the U' 

A volley of musketry blazed from the timber beyond, 
and the man flung up his arms and disappeared. With 
a yell of revenge, the guard broke from the margin, dis- 
charged their muskets into the ambuscade, and 'directly 
returned, bearing the little- fellow with the bullet-head ; 
but the mud on his trousers was turning red, and blood 
dripped in a rill from his mouth and chin. The young 
major's florid face grew pale, he shut his lips tightly; 
and the soldiers, a little apart, swore through their teeth. 

" I am sorry he got his billet," said the general ; " but 
Jie died fulfilling orders, and he was a brave man." 



THE PROSE OP BATTLES. 829 

I wondered as lie rode away, attended by Lis dashing 
staff, if any more such brave men had died^ or were to 
die, fulfilling such orders. 

A dreadful opportunity occurred, after the battle of 
Hanover Court House, to look upon wholesale massacre. 
The wounded of both sides had been hauled from the dis- 
tant field to the encampments of the army, and were 
quartered in and around some old Virginian dwellings. 
All the cow-houses, wagon-sheds, hay-barracks, hen-coops, 
negro cabins, and barns had been turned into hospitals. 
The floors werfe littered with corn-shucks and fodder, and 
the maimed, gashed, and dying lay confusedly together. 
A few, slightly wounded, related incidents of the battle 
through the windows ; but sentries stood at the doors 
with crossed muskets, to keep out idlers and gossips. 
The mention of my vocation was an open sesame, and I 
went unrestrained into all the larger hospitals. In the 
first of these, an amputation was being performed, and at 
the door lay a little heap of human limbs. I shall not 
soon forget the bare-armed surgeons, with bloody instru- 
ments, who leaned over the rigid and insensible figure, 
while the comrades of the subject looked on horror-struck 
at the scene. The grating of the murderous saw drove 
me into the open air, but in the second hospital which I 
visited, a wounded man had just expired, and I encount- 
ered his body at the threshold. The lanterns hanging 
around the room within streamed fitfully upon the red 
eyes and half-naked figures. All were looking up, and 
saying in a pleading monotone: "Is that you, doctor?" 
Men, with their arms in slings, went restlessly up and 
down, smarting with fever. Those who were wounded 
in the lower extremities, body, or 'head, lay upon their 
backs, tossing even in sleep. They listened peevishly to 
the wind whistling through the chinks of the barn ; they 
followed one with their rolling eyes ; they turned away 
from the lantern glare, which seemed to sear them. 

Soldiers sat by the severely wounded, laving their sores 



330 THE PROSE OP BATTLES, 

with water. In many wounds the balls still remained, 
and the flesh was swollen and discolored. There were 
some who had been shot in the bowels, and now and 
then these poor fellows were frightfully convulsed, break- 
ing into shrieks -and shouts, some of them iterated a single 
word, as "Doctor!" or "Help!" or "God!" or "Oh!" 
commencing with a loud, spasmodic cry, and continuing 
the same word till it died away in sighs. The act of call- 
ing seemed to lull the pain. Many were unconscious or 
lethargic, moving their fingers and lips mechanically, 
but never more to open their eyes upon the light — they 
were already going through the valley of the shadow. I 
think still, with a shudder, of the faces of those who were 
told mercifully that they could not live — the unutterable 
agony ; the plea for somebody on whom to call ; the long- 
ing eyes that poured out prayers ; the looking on mortal 
as if its resources were infinite ; the fearful looking to 
the immortal, as if it were so far off, so implacable, that 
the dying appeal would be in vain ; the open lips through 
which one could almost look at the quaking heart below ; 
the ghastliness of brow, and tangled hair; the closing 
pangs— the awful rest at last ! I thought of Parrhasius 
in the poem, ^s I looked at these things : — 

" Gods I 
Could I but paint a dying groan I" 

And how the keen eye of West would have turned from 
the reeking cockpit of the Victory, or the tomb of the 
dead man restored, to this old barn peopled with horrors. 
I rambled in and out, learning to "look at. death, studying 
the manifestations of pain, quivering and sickening at 
times, but plying my vocation, and jotting names for my 
column of mortalities. 

At eleven o'clock there was music along the highroad, 
and a general rushing out of camp ensued. The victo- 
rious regiments were returning from Hanover, under es- 
cort, and all the bands were pealing national airs. As 



THE PROSE OF BATTLES. 331 

they turned down the fields toward their old encamp- 
ments, several brigades stood under arms to welcome 
them, and the cheers were many and vigorous. But the 
solemn ambulances still followed after, and the red flag 
of the hospitals flaunted bloodily in the blue midnight. 

Between midnight and morning the wounded were re- 
moved to White House, on the Eiver Pamunkey, where 
they were forwarded by steamers to northern cities. I 
rode down with my dispatches in an ambulance that con- 
tained six wounded men besides. Ambulances, it may 
be said incidentally, are either two-wheeled or four- 
wheeled. Two wheeled ambulances are commonly called 
"hop, step, and jumps." They are so constructed that 
the forepart lies either very high or very low, and may 
be both at intervals. The wounded occupants may thus 
be compelled to ride for hours with their heels elevated 
above their heads, and may finally be shaken out, or 
have their bones broken by the terrible jolting. The 
four-wheeled ambulances are built in shelves or compart- 
ments, but the wounded are in danger of suffocation in 
them. 

It was in one of the latter that I rode, sitting with the 
driver. We had four horses, but were thrice " swamped" 
on the road, and had once to take out the wounded men 
till we could start the wheels. Two of these were wounded 
in the face, one of them having an ear severed, and the 
other having a fragment of his jaw knocked out. A third 
had received a ball among the thews and muscles behind 
his knee, and his whole ^ body seemed to be paralysed. 
Two were wounded in the shoulders, and a sixth was 
shot in the breast. The last was^believed to be injured 
internally, as he spat blood, and suffered almost the pangs 
of death. The ride with these men, over twenty miles 
of hilly, woody country, was like Dante's excursion into 
the Shades. In the awful stillness of the dark pines, their 
screams frightened the hooting owls, and put to silence 
the whirring insects in the leaves and tree-tops. They 



332 ' THE PROSE OP BATTLES. 

heard the gurgle of the rills, and called aloud for water 
to quench their insatiate thirst. One of them sang a 
shrill fiendish ballad, in an interval of relief, but plunged 
on a sudden relapse into prayers and curses. We heard 
them groaning to themselves as we sat in front, and one 
man, it seemed, was quite out ot his mind. These were 
the outward manifestations ; but what cords trembled 
and smarted within, what regrets for good resolves unful- 
filled, and remorses for years misspent, made hideous those 
sore and panting hearts ? The moonlight pierced through 
the thick foliage of the wood, and streamed into our faces, 
like invitations to a better life. But the crippled and 
bleeding could not see or feel it, buried in the shelves 
of the ambulance. 

During the heat of action at Gaines' Mill I crossed 
Grape Yine Bridge, and remarked incidents scarcely less 
terrible. At every step of my progress I met wounded 
persons. A horseman rode past me, leaning over the 
pommel of his saddle, with blood streaming from his 
mouth, and hanging in gouts from his saturated beard. 
The day had been intensely hot, and black boys were 
besettins: the wounded with buckets of cool lemonade. 
It was a common occurrence for the couples that carried 
the wounded in "stretchers" to stop on the way, pur- 
chase a glass of the beverage, and drink it with gory 
hands. Sometimes the blankets on the stretchers were 
closely folded, and then I knew that the man was dead. 
A little fellow who used his' sword for a cane stopped 
me on the road and said : '' See yer ! This is the ball 
that just fell out o' my leg." 

He handed me a lump of lead as big as my thumb, and 
pointed to a rent in his pantaloons, whence the drops 
rolled down his boots. 

"I wouldn't part with that for suthin' handsome," he 
said : " it will be nice to hev to hum." 

As I cantered away he shouted after me : " Be sure 



THE PROSE OF BATTLES. 333 

you spell my name • right ! It's Smith with an e — 
S-m-i-t-h-e." 

In one place I met five drnnken men escorting a 
wounded sergeant. This man had been shot iti the jaw, 
and when he attempted to speak, the blood choked his 
gesticulation. 

"You le' go, pardnerl" said one of the staggering 
brutes — " he's not your sergeant. Go 'way." 

" Now, sergeant !" said the other idiotically ; " I'll see 
you all right, sergeant ! Come, Bill ! fetch him over to 
the corn-crib, and we'll give him a drink." 

Here the first speaker struck the second, and the ser- 
geant in wrath knocked them both down. At this time 
the enemy's cannon were booming close at hand. 

I came to an officer of rank, whose shoulder emblem I 
could not distinguish, riding upon a limping field-horse. 
Four men held him to his seat, and a fifth led the animal. 
The officer was evidently wounded, though he did not 
seem to be bleeding, and the dust of battle had settled 
upon his blanched, stiffening face like grave-mould upon 
a corpse. He was swaying in the saddle, and his hair — • 
for he was bareheaded — shook across his eyeballs. He 
reminded me of the famous Cid, whose body was sent 
forth to scare the Saracens. A mile or more from Grape 
Vine Bridge, on a hill top, lay a frame farm-house, with 
cherry-trees encircling it, and along the declivity were 
some cabins and corn-bins. The house was now a sur- 
geon's head-quarters, and the wounded lay in the yard 
and lane, under the shade, waiting their turns to be 
hacked and maimed. Some curious people were peeping 
through the windows at the operations. As processions 
of freshly wounded went by, the poor fellows,^ lying on 
their backs, looked mutely at me, and their great eyes 
smote my heart. 

After the carnage of Fair Oaks, I visited the field, and 
by the courtesy of the Irish American, General Meagher, 
was shown the relics of the battle. This engagement, it 



334 THE PROSE OP BATTLES. 

Will be remembered, occurred in what is called tbe 
Chickahominy Swamp, and it was fought, mainly, in 
some thickets and fields, along the York Kiver Kailroad. 
I visited first a cottage and some barns beside the track. 
The house was occupied by some thirty wounded 
Federals; they lay in their blankets upon the floors — 
pale, helpless, hollow-eyed — making low moans at every 
breath. Two or three were feverishlv sleepisg, and as 
the flies revelled upon their gashes, they stirred uneasily, 
and moved their hands to and fro. By the flatness of the 
covering over the extremities, I could see that several 
had only stumps of legs. They had lost the sweet enjoy- 
ment of walking afield, and were but fragments of men, 
to limp forever through a painful life. Such wrecks of 
power I never beheld. Broad, brawny, buoyant, a few 
hours ago, the nervous shock and the loss of blood attend- 
ant upon amputation had well nigh drained them to the 
last drop. Their faces were as white as the tidy ceiling ; 
they were whining like babes ; and only their rolling eyes 
distinguished them frOm mutilated corpses. 

Some seemed quite broken in spirit; and one who 
would speak, observing my pitiful glances towards his 
severed thigh, drew up his mouth and chin, and wept, as 
if, with the loss of comeliness, all his ambitions were frus- 
trated. A few attendants were brushing off the insects 
with boughs of cedar, laving the sores, or administering 
cooling draughts. The second story of the dwelling was 
likewise occupied by the wounded ; but in a corner 
clustered the terrified farmer and his family, vainly at- 
tempting to turn their eyes from the horrible spectacle. 
The farmer's wife had a baby at her breast, and its little 
blue eyes were straying over the room, half wonderingly, 
half delightedly. I thought with a shudder of babyhood 
thus surrounded, and how, in the long future, its first 
recollections of existence should be of booming guns and 
dying soldiers. 

The cow-shed contained seven corpses, scarcely yet 



THE PROSE OP BATTLES. 335 

cold, lying upon their backs in a row, and fast losing all 
resemblance to man. The furthest removed seemed to 
be a diminutive boy ; and I thought, if he had a mother, 
that she might some time like to speak with me. Beyond 
my record of the names of these, falsely spelled, pq/^haps, 
they would have no history. And people call such deaths 
glorious ! Upon a pile -of lumber and some heaps of 
fence rails close by, sat some dozens of wounded men, 
mainly Federals, with bandaged arms and faces, and torn 
clothing. There was one, shot in the foot, who howled 
at every effort to remove his boot ; the blood leaked from 
a rent in the side, and at last the leather was cut piece- 
meal from t&e flesh. They ate voraciously, though in 
pain and fear, for a little soup and meat were being doled ' 
out to them. 

The most touching of all these scenes was presented 
in the stable or barn on the premises, where a bare, dingy 
floor — the planks of which tilted and shook as one made 
his way over them — was strewn with suffering people. 
Just at the entrance sat a boy, totally blind, both eyes 
having been torn out by -a Minie ball. He crouched 
against the gable in darkness and agony, tremulously 
fingering his knees. Near at hand sat another, who had 
been shot through the middle of the forehead, but, singu- 
lar to relate, he still lived, though lunatic, and evidently 
beyond hope. Death had drawn blue and yellow circles 
beneath his eyes, and he incomprehensibly wagged his 
head. Two men, perfectly naked, lay in the middle of 
the place, wounded in bowels and loins ; and at a niche 
in the weather-boarding, where some pale light peeped 
in, four mutilated wretches were gaming with cards. v 

I was now led a little way down the railway to see the 
Confederates. The rain began to fall at this time, and 
the poor fellows shut their eyes to avoid the pelting of 
the drops. There was no shelter for them within a mile, 
and the mud absolutely reached half-way up their bodies. 
Nearly one-third had suffered amputation above the knee. 



336 THE PROSE OF BATTLES. 

There were about thirty at this spot ; but owing to the 
destruction of the Chickahominy bridges, by reason of a 
freshet, they could not at present be removed to White 
House. Some of them were fine, athletic, vigorous fel- 
lows, and attention was called to one who had been mar- 
ried only three days before. 

" Doctor," said one feebly, " I fcbl very cold. Do you 
think that this is death ? It seems to be creeping to my 
heart. I have no fieeling in my feet, and my thighs are 
benumbed." 

A Federal soldier came along with a bucket of soup, 
and proceeded to fill the canteens and plates. He ap- 
peared to be a relative of Mark Tapley, and possessed 
much of that estimable person's jollity. 

''Come, pardner," he said, "drink up yer soup. Now, 
old boy, this '11 warm ye ; sock it down, and ye'll soon 
see yer sweetheart. You dead, Allybamy ? Go way, 
now ! You'll live a hundred years — you will, that's what 
yer '11 do. Won't he, lad? What!' Not any? Get 
out ! You'll be slap on yer legs next week, and hev an- 
other shot at me the week ar'ter that. You with the 
butternut trousers ! Sa-ay ! Wake up, and take some 
o' this. Hillo, lad ! pardner, wake up !" 

He stirred him gently with his foot ; he bent down to 
touch his face — a grimness came over his merriment ; the 
man was stiff and dumb. 

Colonel Baker, of the 88th ISTew York, a tall, martial 
Irishman, took me into the woods where some of the slain 
still remained. We had proceeded but a very little way, 
when we came up to a trodden place beneath the pines, 
where a scalp lay in the leaves, and the imprint of a 
body was plainly visible. T]ie bayonet scabbard lay on 
one side, the canteen at the other. We saw no corpses, 
Iiowever, as fatigue-parties had been interring the slain, 
and the woods were dotted with heaps of clay, where the 
dead slept below in the oozy trenches. Quantities of 
cartridges were scattered here and there, dropped by the 



THE PROSE OP BATTLES. 33t 

retreating Confederates. Some of the cartridge-pouclies 
that I examined were completely filled, showing that the 
possessors had not fired a single round ; others had but 
one cartridge missing. There were fragments of clothing 
hair, blankets, murderous bowie and dirk knives, spurs, 
flasks, caps, and plumes, dropped all the way through the 
thicket, and the trees on every side were riddled with 
balls» 

I came upon a squirrel, unwittingly shot during the 
fight ; not only those who make the war must feel the 
war ! At one of the mounds the burying party had just 
completed their work, and the men were throwing the 
last clods upon the remains. They had dug pits of not 
more than two feet in depth, and dragged the bodies 
heedlessly to the edges, whence they were toppled down, 
and scantily covered with earth. Much of the interring 
had been done by night, and the flare of lanterns upon 
the discolored faces and dead eyes must have been hide- 
ousl}^ efiective. The grave-diggers, however, were prac- 
tical personages, and had probably little care for dramatic 
effects. They leaned upon their spades.when the rites were 
finished, and a large, repulsive looking person, who ap- 
peared to he-privileged on all occasions, said, grinningly : 
''Colonel, your honor, them boys '11 never stand forninst 
the Irish brigade again. If they'd ha' known it was us, 
sir, begorra ! they'd ha' brought cof&ns wid 'em." 

" No, nivir ! They got their ticket for soup ! "We 
kivered thim, fait, will inough 1" shouted the other grave- 
diggers. 

" Do ye belave, colonel," said the first speaker again, 
"that thim ribals '11 lave us a chance to catch them? 
Be me sowl ! I'm jist wishing to war-rum me hands wid 
rifle-practice." 

The memorable retreat from the Chickahominy to the 

James, whereby McClellan saved the relic of his distressed 

and beaten army, was a series of horrors, which the limits 

of this article will not allow me to recapitulate. A sketch 

22 



338 THE PROSE OP BATTLES. 

of the opening of the battle of White Oak will answer 
for the present. On the^night of the 29th of June, 1862^ 
I went to sleep on the brovV of one of the hills forming 
the south bank of White Oak Creek. The Federal army 
had crossed over during the night, and the bridge and 
causeway through the swamp had been destroyed behind 
them. A crash and a stunning shocks as of a falling 
sphere, aroused me at nine o'clock — a shell had burst in 
front of my tent, and the Confederate artillery was thun- 
dering from Casey's old hill beyond the swamp. As I 
hastily drew on my boots, for I had not otherwise un- 
dressed, I had opportunity to remark one of those nnac- 
countable panics which develop among civilian soldiers. 

The camps were plunged into disorder. As the shells 
dropped here and there among the tents and teams, the 
wildest and most fearful deeds were enacted. Here, a 
caisson blew up, tearing the horses to pieces, and whirl- 
ing a cannonier among the clouds ; there an ammunition 
wagon exploded, and the air seemed to be full of frag- 
ments of wood, iron, and flesh. A boy stood at one of 
the fires combing out his matted hair; suddenly, his 
head flew. oQ] spattering the brains ; and the shell, which 
I could not see, exploded in a piece of wood, mutilating 
the trees. The effect "upon the people around me was 
instantaneous and appalling. Some that were partially 
dressed took to their heels, hugging a medley of clothing. 
The teamsters climbed into the saddles, and shouted to 
their nags, whipping them the while. If the heavy 
wheels hesitated to revolve, they left vehicles and horses 
to their fates, cut traces and harness, galloping away like 
madmen. In a twinkling, our camps were alive with 
fugitives, pushing, swearing, falling and tumbling, while 
the fierce bolts fell monotonously among them, making 
havoc at every rod. 

To join this flying, dying mass, was my first impulse ; 
but after thought reminded ilie that it would be better 
to remain. I must not leave my horse, for I could not 



THE PROSE OF BATTLES. 339 

walk the whole long way to the James, and the swamp 
fever had so reduced me, that i hardly cared to keep the 
little life remaining. I almost marvelled at my coolness, 
since, in the fulness of strength and health, I might have 
been the first of the fugitives ; whereas, I now looked 
interestingly upon the exciting spectacle, and wished that 
it could be daguerreotyped. Before our artillery could 
be brought to play, the enemy, emboldened by success, 
pushed a column of infantry down the hill, to cross the 
creek, and engage us on our camping ground. For a 
time, I believed that he would be successful ; and in that 
event, confusion and ruin would have overtaken the 
Unionists. The gray and butternut lines appeared over 
the brow of the hill ; wound at double quick through the 
narrow defile ; they poured a volley into our camps when 
half-way down, and under cover of the smoke, they dashed 
forward impetuously with a loud huzza. The artillery 
beyond them kept up a steady fire, raining shell, grape 
and canister over their heads, and ploughing the ground 
on our side into zigzag furrows, rending the trees, shat- 
tering the ambulances, tearing the tents to tatters, slay- 
ing the horses, butchering the men. Directly, a captain 
named Mott brought his battery to bear, but before he 
could open fire, a solid shot struck one of his twelve- 
pounders, breaking the trunnions and splintering the 
wheels. In like manner one of his caissons blew up, and 
I do not think that he was able to make any practice 
whatever. A division of infantry was now marched for- 
ward to engage the Confederates at the creek-side, but 
two of the regiments turned bodily and could not be 
rallied. 

The moment was full of significance, and I beheld these 
failures with breathless' suspense. In five minutes the 
pursuers would gain the creek, and in ten drive our 
dismayed battalions like chaff before the wind. 

I hurried to my horse, that I might be ready to escape ; 
the shell and ball still made music around me. I buckled 



340 A THRILLING SCENE IN TENNESSEE. 

up my saddle with tremulous fingers, and put my foot 
upon the stirrup. But a- cheer recalled me, and a great 
clapping of hands, as at some clever performance at the 
amphitheatre. I looked again. A battery had opened 
from our position across the road upon the Confederate 
infantry, as they reached the very brink of the swamp. 
For a moment, the bayonets tossed wildly, the immense 
column staggered like a drunken man, the flags rose and 
fell, and then the line moved back disorderly ; the pass 
had been defended. 



A TERILLINa SCENE IN TENNESSEE. 

The following account of an uprising of Union men in 
East Tennessee is taken from a rebel source, and will be 
read with thrilling interest. 

The facts connected with the burning of the Lick Creek 
Bridge, says the Knoxville (rebel) Register of Febri;iary 
8, 1862, as they appeared in the testimony elicited by the 
Court-martial, have come into our possession from an 
authentic source, and are as follows : — 

A man by the name of David Fry, in connection with 
William B. Carter, both citizens of East Tennessee, but 
who had lately deserted the land of their birth, fled to 
Kentucky, and connected themselves with the enemies of 
their country, returned to East Tennessee after the repulse 
of General Zollicoffer's command at Rockcastle Hill, for 
the purpose of inciting a conspiracy with the traitors on 
this side, which would result in the entire destruction of 
the railroad facilities here, and then break up and entirely 
cut off communication between Virginia and the remain- 
ing States of the Confederacy, prevent the transportation 
of troops, provisions, and munitions of war, and thus open 
the way for the successful invasion of our State. These 
two men, as is s*upposed, came first into the county of 
Anderson, and then, concealed at the house of a Union 




A THRLLilNG SCENE IN EAST TENNESSEE 
COlOMCL fry and the L'WIOW MEN SWEARING- BY THE EL AG. 



A THRILLTNG SCENE IN TENNESSEE. 341 

man, sent, as one of tlie witnesses heard, for William 
Pickens, of Sevier, who made the attempt upon Straw- 
berry Plains Bridge, but who, with his gang of fifteen 
men, was repulsed by Keelan single-handed and alone, 
Pickens himself falling seriously wounded. 

It is known that Fry and Carter passed on into Koane 
County, and parted at Kingston. At this point we lose 
sight of Carter, as no evidence has yet appeared of his 
whereabouts after that time. Fry, however, proceeded 
on his journey up the country, passing through Loudon 
(no doubt making every arrangement for the destruction 
of that bridge), then passing through Blount County, 
and finally reaching Greene County two days before the 
burning of Lick Creek Bridge. 

Travelling, as he did, at nights, and lying by in day- 
light, stealthily and treacherously creeping from on© 
traitor's house to another, his movements could not be 
traced until he arrived, on the night of Wednesday, the 
6th of November, at the house of Anderson Walker, in 
Greene County. Here he remained until the night of 
Thursday, the 7th, when! he proceeded to Martin Walker's, 
arriving about eight o'clock at night. At Martin 
Walker's he met his wife, and remained until two o'clock 
in the morning of the 8th, stating to Walker that he was 
on his way to Kentucky, but wanted to see a friend near 
Midway (Lick Creek Bridge), and asking if Jacob Har- 
mon was as good a Union man as ever. As appeared 
from the testimony. Fry made no revelations to Walker 
of his plans; but starting, as he did, at two o'clock, and 
not being familiar with the roads. Walker piloted him 
about three miles in the direction of Midway. * 

After leaving Walker', Fry stopped at the house of 
Daniel Smith, a noted Union man, living five or six miles 
from the bridge, arriving there about one hour before 
daylight. Immediately Fry laid his plans before Smith, 
who agreed to act as a messenger from Fry to Jacob Har- 
mon to communicate to Harmon that he (Fry) was at 



342 A THRILLING SCENE IN TENNESSEE. 

Smith's house ; that he had come to destroy the railroad, 
and that he wanted to see Harmon at Smith's house that 
morning. This message was communicated by Smith to 
Jacob Harmon about eight o'clock on the morning of the 
8th of November ; and accordingly Harmon, who was a 
leading Union spirit in the neighborhood, repaired to 
Smith's house, where the plans were unfolded, and the 
plot and programme agreed upon. Harmon was to go 
home, circulate the fact throughout the neighborhood, and 
gather the Unionists, assembling them at his house on 
that night, while Fry would remain at Smith's until 
nightfall, and then repair to Harmon's house to consum- 
mate the conspiracy. 

Harmon did his share of the work well, for as early as 
nine o'clock at night between thirty and forty conspi- 
rators had met at his house, ready to be led by their 
chief on his arrival, and eager for the destruction of the 
property. At that hour ¥tj alighted from his horse and 
bounded into the yard, exclaiming: "Friends, I am 
Colonel Fry, and am come to share with you." The 
party immediately assembled in the house, when Fry 
commenced haranguing the crowd by revealing his plans, 
and urging them on to deeds of violence, until the crowd 
were almost unanimous in their expressions of approba- 
tion, and with one accord determined that the bridge 
should be destroyed^-that Fry should be their leader, 
and that they would follow him, if necessary to death. 

Fry drew forth a United States flag, and spreading it 
upon a table in the centre of the room, called upon his 
followers to surround that emblem of the Union, and take 
with him the oath of allegiance. This was late in the 
night ; and after the whole plot had been fully under- 
stood, the conspirators surrounded the table in groups, 
and, 'by direction of the leader, placed their left hands 
upon the folds of the flag, raising aloft their right hands, 
and swearing to support the Constitution of the United 
States, to sustain the flag there spread before them, and 



THE BOGUS KENTUCKY UNIONIST. 343 

to do tliat night whatever may be impressed upon them 
by their chief. This oath was taken by all, except two 
or three, in solemn earnest, and in silence ; the darkness 
relieved alone by the dim and flickering light of a solitary, 
candle. The scene was impressive — the occasion was full 
of moment— the hour was fit, and everything conspired to 
fill the hearts of the traitors with a fixed determination. 

Aroused thus to the highest pitch of malice and revenge, 
the chief of the conspirators immediately led the way to 
the bridge, and was followed in eager haste by the will- 
ing crowd. The Confederate guard, consisting of five 
soldiers, watching the bridge, were immediately sur- 
rounded by the infuriated mob, and were held in close 
confinement, while Fry, still leading th.e way and still 
followed by the boldest of his clan, hastened to the 
wooden structure, applied the torch, and the whole was 
consumed and burned to the ground in an hour. 



THE BOGUS KEUTUOKY TOIONIST. 

The arrest of the parties inentioned in the sketch 
headed " Not the right Sanders," which will be found on 
preceding pages, was .for a time the town talk. Gossips 
discussed it in every conceivable aspect, and Rumor found 
employment for her hundred tongues. The hotels, the 
steamers, the railw/ays, the bar-rooms, and even the streets 
of Cairo, Illinois, were full of it. It penetrated the sanctity 
of private residences, and sat down with their inmates 
around the family hearth. The doctor and captain were 
soon recognized, pointed out, and everywhere made the, 
cynosure of wondering eyes. Speculation was busy 
with their probable fate, and expressions of sympathy or 
Scowling looks of contemptuous indifference greeted them, 
according to the character and feelings of those whom 
they saw and met. Mrs. Ford, too, was not .forgotten in 
all this. Pitied and despised in turn, she was thought 



344 THE BOGUS KENTUCKY UNIONIST. 

and spoken of bj many ; but, not being visible to tbe 
rabble, she was hardly the object of so much interest as 
her two companions. 

Oq the evening following the arrest, while the doctor 
was comfortably ensconced within an arm-chair in the 
sitting-room of the St. Charles, he was accosted by a fine- 
looking, elderly gentleman, who introduced himself as 
Mr. Phillips, of Louisville, Kentucky. For the liberty 
thus taken he apologized by saying that he had heard 
him spoken of as a Confederate surgeon under arrest and 
in trouble, and that if he could be of any assistance to 
him he would most cheerfully render it. He lived, he 
said, three miles from Louisville, just outside of the 
Federal lines, and was there known as a Union man of 
the straitest sect — so much so that General Boyle had 
given him a pass to come into the city and go out at will. 
He had taken oaths of allegiance^ — bitter and detestable 
as they were — out of policy, and for appearance's sake. 
His heart, however, was with the South, in whose service 
part of his family now were. His son-in-law. Dr. Keller, 
was chief surgeon on Hindman's staffj and his own son 
held a position in the rebel army. He owned a planta- 
tion in Mississippi, which had formerly been well stocked 
with negroes. He had heard, however, while at home, 
that the Yankees had overrun the plantation and run off 
the negroes, and that most of them had been brought up 
the river to Cairo. He had at once procured from 
General Boyle a pass to Cairo and a letter of introduc- 
tion to General Tuttle, in which he was indorsed as a 
sound, thorough-going Union man, in whom all confi- 
dence could be placed, and stating also that he was now 
in search of certain negroes supposed to be in Cairo, and 
that any assistance rendered him in their recovery would 
be considered a particular favor by the writer, who 
regarded it as no more than an act of justice to a loyal 
man. On the strength of these representations he had 
recovered the negroes, and was now only waiting for a 



THE BOGUS KENTUCKY UNIONIST. 845 

boat to take them home with him. In the meanwhile, if 
he could be of any service, he had only to mention it. 
He had some money left, and if it was money the doctor 
wanted, it was at his command. If there was not enough 
of it, he would procure more for him. He would sign a 
bond, would indorse any statement, would make any sort 
of representations to General Tuttle in his behaltj and, 
with the character given him by his letters of recom- 
mendation, he thought he could arrange the matter with 
the general and procure his release. 

The doctor thanked him warmly, but said that it would 
be of no use, as it was beyond the power of General 
Tuttle to do anything in the premises. He had been 
implicated in smuggling contraband goods through the 
lines, and had been ordered to be sent back to General 
Eosecrans, to be dealt with for the violation of his parole. 
His own case was bad enough, to be sure ; but it was not 
for himself he cared. His life was worth nothing, and 
he would die any time to serve the Confederacy : it did 
not matter whether he ever returned to the land of his 
love; It was not for his own sake he wished it, but to 
relieve the sufferings and save the lives of his compan- 
ions-in-arms. There was a great scarcity of all kinds of 
medicines in the South, and hundreds were dying for the 
want of them. He had hoped, in his poor way, to do 
something for them, but he had been betrayed by a 
pretended friend. But even this failure, involving the 
consequences it did, was a small matter compared with 
the detention of his fellow-traveller. That was a public 
calamity which it was of the utmost importance to remedy 
at once ; for, to speak confidentially. Captain Denver was 
not Captain Denver at all, but George N. Sanders, just 
returning from England with the acceptance of the Con- 
federate loan, by the Eothschilds, in his pocket. This 
he had managed to save from the general confiscation ; 
and if any way could now be devised to get him away 
and through the lines immediately, all would yet be well. 



346 THE BOGUS KENTUCKY UNIONIST. 

and the Confederacy financially be recognized as an 
independent nation. As for himself, he had no particular 
desire to go again to Nashville if 'it could be avoided, but 
Sanders must* be helped through at all hazards, without 
reference to himself or any body else. Some time 
previously, it will be remembered, the noted George IST. 
Sanders escaped to England through Canada ;^ and this 
tale was concocted to correspond with that event and 
seem plausible. 

During this narration Phillips was deeply interested, 
and at its close so much excited that he could hardly 
speak. After gazing abstractedly for a few moments, he 
invited the doctor to his room, where they could talk 
more privately and with less danger. There he repeated 
that, though professedly Union, he was heart and hand 
with the South, and always had been. He had aided it 
at every opportunity — had smuggled through clothing, 
medicines, arms, and ammunition, had acted as a spy, and 
when Bragg was threatening Louisville had sent his 
negroes to him, time and again, with valuable informa- 
tion, and on one very important occasion had gone him- 
self. His earnest professions of loyalty had completely 
deceived the Federal authorities, and he was trusted by 
General Boyle as a friend, and the standing thus acquired 
had made him of considerable service to his Southern 
friends, and he had expected to continue in his assumed 
character somewhile longer; but now he thought he 
could do more good by throwing off. the mask. 

" Come straight back to Louisville with me," he said. 
" I will put you and Sanders both through, and go myself 
in the bargain. I am tired of Yankee rule ; don't care 

a for them, and ask no odds. I've "got money* 

enough, everything I want, and can get along without 
them. It will be easy enough to get away. Nobody 
will suspect me, and I can get a pass from Boyle to go 
anywhere. I've got some of the best horses in the 
country — can't . be beat for speed and bottom ; and we 



THE BOGUS KENTUCKY UNIONIST. 347 

will -fix "up a light wagop, fill it with medicines most 
needed, and be away beyond reach before anybody'll 
think of such a thing as pursuit." 

The doctor assenting, an immediate return to Louis- 
ville was agreed upon, where the three were to meet 
again and make all necessary arrangements for the trip. 
On reaching that city, the doctor went at once to see 
General Boyle, when the following colloquy ensued : — 

." General, do you know a man by the name of Phillips, 
living some three miles out of town?" 

"Oh, yes, very well. He's a particular frilend of 
mine." 

"Do you know his wife and his daughter, Mrs. Dr. 
Keller?" 

" Yes — know the whole family." 

"What is their position, general, on the war ques- 
tion?" 

" Oh, they are loyal. He's one of the very best Union 
men we have in Kentucky." 

" Ah ? But, general, what would you think if I should 
say I had made an arrangement with him to poison 
you?" . 

" That you were as mad as a March hare." 

" Well, I don't mean to say that I have exactly any- 
thing of that kind against him, but I do say that he is not 
a Union man at all, but, on the contrary, a rebel and a 

" How do you know that ?" 

" Oh, simply enough. He told me so himself ; that's 
all. I met him in Cairo a day or two since, and we had 
a long talk." (Here the doctor narrated the circum- 
stances, and gave the conversation as it occurred.) " I'll fix 
it upon him in any way you wish. He shall give money 
to anybody you name, to buy contraband goods and 
medicines with. He shall leave his house on any night 
you say in any kind of wagon you say. You shall exa- 
mine that wagon, and in it you shall find contraband 



348 THE BOGUS KENTUCKY UNIONIST. 

goods. You shall arrest him at any point you please, 
and you will find our man Conklin [Denver] in the wagon, 
blacked and disguised as a negro. You shall find upon 
him letters to Southern rebels ; or you may secrete your- 
self behind a screen, and hear him tell his own story, how 
he has deceived you, how he smuggled goods through to 
the rebels times without number, how he kept Bragg in- 
formed of what was going on last summer, and how he is 
now preparing to go. south with an amount of medicines, 
important dispatches, etc." 

" Good God ! Is it possible that he is such a man ? I 
would have staked my life on his loyalty and good faith. 
But can't you stay and work the case up for me ?" 

" I will stay to-morrow and do what I can ; but the 
next day I must be in JSTashville. I will arrange matters 
so that your own men can fix the whole thing upon him, 
but I am expected back day after to-morrow, and dare 
not stay longer." 

" I don't like to trust them ; it's too important a case. 
I'll telegraph to the Chief of Police, and, if your business 
isn't a matter of too much importance, get permission for 
you to stay a few days. How will that do?" 

"Very well." " ' 

The doctor then took his leave, and the next morning 
was shown a dispatch authorizing him to remain in 
Louisville so long as General Boyle should require his 
assistance. 

That day Phillips came to see the doctor at the Gait 
House. The project was discussed more at length, and 
a plan of operations partially agreed upon. At length 
Phillips said to the doctor — 

" Do you know my son-in-law, Dr. Keller ?" 

" Yery well ; have seen him a hundred times." 

" Do you know his wife ?" 

"Yes: I met her frequently in Memphis. She was 
connected with some aid society there, and I saw her oftert 
about the hospitals." 



THE BOGUS KENTUCKY UNIONIST. 349 

" Did yon ? She's at my house now, and will be crazy 
to see you," 

The doctor saw that he was getting himself into a 
scrape. Known to Mrs. Keller by another name and in 
another character, how should he meet her now, in new 
garb and guise, without revealing the deception and 
frightening away his game. The only escape from the 
dilemma was to put a bold face on the matter, and by 
sheer audacity overcome any difficulties or obstacles that 
might be thrown in his way by reason of old acquaintance. 
He woTjld be very happy to meet the lady, he said, but 
could not call on her. He did not think it was wise to 
leave the hotel, and especially to go beyond the lines. 
It was only a matter of courtesy that he was allowed the 
liberty he enjoyed. Charged with breaking his parole, 
strict military usage would demand close confinement 
under guard, and he was anxious to do nothing to which 
the least exception could now be taken. Any further 
mishap to him would endanger the success of their new 
enterprise, and it was vitally important that Sanders 
should get through this time without fail. If his daughter 
could be induced to call upon him at the Gait House, it 
would confer a personal favor upon him, and would re- 
lieve him from the necessity or temptation of doing any- 
thing incompatible with the terms of his parole with the 
strictest sense of honor. Phillips acknowledged the just- 
ness of this view of the case, and promised that Mrs. Kel- 
ler should visit him the next day. 

Sure enough, the next morning in came Mrs. Keller. 
Hardly had she alighted from her carriage when the 
doctor welcomed her in his most graceful manner. 

" How do you do, Mrs. Keller ? I am delighted to 
see you. How well you are looking! How are the 
children ? When did you leave Memphis ? How long 
have you been in Louisville ? When did you hear from 
Dr. Keller ? How did you leave all the friends in Mem- 
phis?" . ^ 



350 THE BOGUS KENTUCKY UNIONIST. 

And so for full five minutes the doctor launched at 
her question after question, with the utmost rapidity of 
his rapid utterance, scarcely giving her time to hear, 
much less answer the first, before her attention was called 
to a second, a third, and so on, until she was so hopelessly 
confused and perplexed that she could say just nothing 
at all. By the time she had recovered, the doctor, with 
diplomatic skill, had diverted the conversation into new 
channels, still giving her no time to advert to their ac- 
quaintance in Memphis and the spirit of change which 
had since come over him. At length, by shrewd manage- 
ment, she edged in this simple question — 

" When did you see Dr. Keller last ?" 

The road now being clear, the doctor answered more 
at leisure, but not less elaborately — 

" It has been a good while — some five or six months. 
I have been a prisoner three months or more, and Gene- 
ral Hindman had gone to Arkansas some time before I 
was captured, and I have not seen the doctor since he 
left with the general." 

" I had no idea you had been so long a prisoner. How 
did you happen to be taken, and how did yoa escape?" 

" We were taken in the Confederate hospital at luka. 
Ordinarily, surgeons are not treated as prisoners, but are 
considered non-combatants. We, however, were retained 
as hostages for the return of certain Federals imprisoned 
by General Price in violation, as the Yankee commander 
alleged, of the rules of war and the cartel agreed upon 
by the contending parties. A very intimate friend of 
mine, Dr. Scott, also of the Confederate army, and cap- 
tured with me, married a cousin of the Federal General 
Stanley; and through the influence which this relation- 
ship gave him we were released on parole, the remainder 
being still in captivity." 

The doctor then proceeded with a relation of the occur- 
rences of the past two or three days, dwelling particularly 
upon the unfortunate detention of Sanders. Mrs. Kel- 



THE BOGUS KENTUCKY UNIONIST. 351 

ler's sympathy was at once excited. She entered warmly 
into their plans and purposes, and freely offered every 
assistance that it was in her power to render. She would 
go herself, but circumstances over which she had no 
control would not permit it. She had a younger, unmar- 
ried sister, however, who was very anxious to accompany 
them, and she would dress her in boy's clothes to avoid 
suspicion and trouble. 

Just then Phillips himself came in, flushed with excite- 
ment, and eager to be off at once. His whole mind was 
bent on the enterprise, and he could not be easy until 
they were fairly started. His arrangements were all 
perfected, and he knew just where he could buy every- 
thing he wanted ; he would take the articles out to his 
house a few at a time, and nobody would imagine any- 
thing out of the way. He could easily make two trips 
a day ; and it wouldn't take long at that rate to load the 
wagon. He wanted everything ready, so that they could 
be off at a moment's notice. 

"Certainly," said the doctor, thoughtfully, "it will be 
well to have everything ready. But since I saw you last 
I've been thinking about this thing of carrying contra- 
band goods with us, and I've about concluded it won't do. 
It is true that the medicines would do an immense amount 
of good — possibly save rnany live's ; but there's Denver ; 
he must be got through, anyhow. It won't do to risk 
anything. We must have a sure thing of it this time. 
Then, again, I don't want to act in bad faith by violating 
my parole. Our people want- such things badly enough, 
but they must get them in some other way. It will be 
glory enough for us to get Denver through ; 'twill be 
better than winning a battle ; whole generations will rise 
up and call us blessed. Don't let us attempt too much 
and spoil it all. Better avoid all needless risk, and stick 
to one thing. "We are made men if we succeed in that." 

But Phillips was not Convinced. He- didn't believe 
there was any risk at all, and wasn't going with an empty 



S52 THE BOGUS KENTUCKY UNIONIST. 

wagfon — not lie. It should be packed as fall as it could 
hold with drugs and other needed goods. He had money, 
and was going to use it ; and if he, the doctor, was afraid to 
go with him, he might find some other means of getting 
there. 

To this, the doctor only replied that he still thought it 
unwise, but he was not the man to back out of any enter- 
prise. Still, he would not violate his parole — would not 
knowingly engage in any contraband trade. But Denver 
was under no such restraint, and, said the doctor — 

"You had better talk with him. He knows just what 
is wanted. He's a mild, quiet fellow, however, and never 
intrudes himself upon anybody's notice'. He wouldn't 
think of suggesting such a thing ; but if you furnish him 
money he'll buy just what can be used to the best advan- 
tage. He can buy and you can load the goods ; but I 
don't want to know anything about them. You can be 
ready to start on such a day, and I will meet you at 
some station on the railroad and take passage with you 
there." 

Phillips was satisfied with this, and at once sought out 
Denver and gave him one hundred and fifty-five dollars 
— all the money he had with him — directed him to a 
particular store where he could get all the quinine, &c. 
that he wanted, told him to buy as much as he thought 
best, and pay this money down as a^i earnest of good faith 
in making the purchase. In the meanwhile he would 
draw from the bank as much more as would be needed, 
and with it he could settle the bill the next day. Den- 
ver went as directed, but found that the merchant would 
sell him nothing without a special permit from General 
Boyle. This was reported to the doctor, who promised 
to have that obstacle removed without delay. 

• While Phillips and Denver are arranging other matters, 
the doctor goes to General Boyle, reports progress, and 
asks him to issue a permit for the sale of the quinine. 
The general hesitates, doesn't exactly like to do it, and 



A contraband's idea of war. 353 

finally asks if they can't mark some boxes "quinine," 
nail them up, load them into his wagon, and have them 
found there when arrested. "But no," he continues, 
"that won't do at all. He'd beat us in that game. We 
couldn't show that he had anything contraband in his 
wagon. Of co.urse he'd deny it, and it would be neces- 
sary for us to prove it. Can't we borrow enough to 
answer our purposes ?" 

* " Possibly ; but it would be better for the Government 
to buy it, if you won't let him do it. It would be worth 
more than five or six hundred dollars to get rid of such 
an arrant old traitor and spy." 

" I guess we can get along by borrowing." 
The borrowing project very nearly defeated the whole 
matter, by the delay incurred ; but the quinine was finally 
obtained, given to Denver, and safely packed in Phillips' 
wagon. Everything was now ready for a start. The 
doctor took the cars for the place of meeting, and Phillips 
set out in his wagon, Denver, disguised as a negro, driving. 
The doctor arrived safely at the appointed rendezvous ; • 
but not so Phillips. He was scarcely well started when 
he was arrested and brought back to Louisville. Too 
proud and haughty to betray the least emotion, there was 
no " scene" at any time during his arrest or examination, 
and he vouchsafed not a word in his own behalf. Defence 
there could be none. His guilt was too patent for doubt. 
Conviction followed as a matter of course ; and instead 
of finding a home on his Mississippi plantation, he became 
an involuntary recipient of the widely-dispensed hospi- 
talities of Camp Chase. 



A OONTEABATO'S IDEAs^OP WAR. 

A correspondent writing from Burnside's Division at 
Newbern, N. C, gives the following amusing account 
of the ideas which the negroes there have of the war. 

.23 



SSi A contraband's idea of war, 

'',We were passing along the wharves, a few days ago, 
wondering at the amount of business that was there 
transacted. While standing observing a cargo of horses 
being transferred from a vessel. to the shore, ao " old con- 
l3-kband" appeared at our elbow, touching his old fur hat, 
aad scraping an enormous foot. He opened his battery 
mJ)on us with the following — 
" Well, boss, how is yer ?" 
i^i" Pretty well, daddy ; how are you ?" 
i[j"I'se fuss rate, I is. B'long to old Burnemside^s boys^ 
dbes yer ?" 

^* Yes, I belong to that party. Great boys, ain^t they?" 
" Well, I thought yer b'long to dat party. Great man, 
li^« is, dat's sartin. Yes sir." 

vI"We waited and waited; we heard yer was comin^^ 
Imt we mos guv yer up. 'Deed, we jess did ; but one 
morning we heard the big guns, way down ribber, go 
bapg, bang, bang, and de folks round yer began to cut 
d^r sticks mitey short, and trabbel up de rail-track. Den 
^ Ipress de good Lord, we knowed yer was comin', but we 
lield our jaw. Byme-by de sogers begun to cut dar 
stick, too, and dey did trabble ! Goramity, 'pears dey 
made de dirt fly 1 Yah, ha I" 
,ir^^ Why, were they scared so bad?'^ 
0)^'De sogers didn't skeer um so much as dem black 
bbkts. 'Kase,. yer see, de sogers shot solid balls, and dey 
liot mind dem so much ; but when dem boats say bo-o-m,, 
dey knowed de rotten halls was comin', and dey skeeted, 
quijickern a streak o' litenin." 

" What rotten balls did the boats throw at them ?" 
" Don't yer know ? Why, dem balls dat are bad, dar 
rotten; fly all to bits — 'deed does dey — play de very 
debbil wid yer. No dodgin' dem ere balls; 'kase yer 
dunno whar dey fly to — strike yah and fly yandah; 
dat's what skeered 'em so bad !" 
• ^ii'/ Well, what are you going to do when the war's over ? 
Going along ?" 



THE TRAITOR WAGON-MASTER. 355 

" Dunno, 'praps I goes Norf, wid dis crowd. Pretty 
much §0; I guess. 'Peers ter me dis cliile'had better be 



THE TEAITOE WAGON-MASTER. 

In the early part of February, 1863, there was board- 
ing at the City Hotel, in Nashville, a lady of ordinary 
appearance and apparently about forty-five years of age. 
Her husband and three sons were in the rebel Morgan's 
command, and she was known by the proprietors of the 
house and by Mrs. Winburn — the wife of one of them — 
as entertaining strong sympathy for the Confederate cause. 
In reality, however, she was a Union woman, and in the 
employ of Colonel Truesdail, Chief of the Army Police. 
From the position of her relatives, and her former place 
of residence, aided by her expression of Southern senti- 
ments, she was considered a genuine secessionist, and had 
completely won the favor of Mrs. Winburn, by whom 
she was made a friend and confidante. Mrs. W. told her 
on several occasions how much aid she and others of her 
lady friends had rendered to the Confederates, and how 
much more they intended to do for them. When visitors 
arrived at the City Hotel and made known their Southern 
sympathies, she was introduced to them as entertaining 
the same sentiments, and at once admitted to their con- 
fidence and councils. In this way she learned the exist- 
ence there of a club, or rather association of persons, of 
rebel tendencies, the members of which made use of a 
certain password, without which none could gain admit- 
tance to their meetings, and this password was " Truth 
and Fidelity." ^ 

About the middle of February there arrived at the 
hotel from Louisville a certain Mrs. Trainor, who was 
there joined by her husband, John Trainor — the latter 
understood to have formerly been .master of transporta- 



356 THE TRAITOR WAGON-MASTER. 

tion in tbe Ordnance Department of Major-General Buell's 
army. Mrs. Trainer was introduced by Mrs. Winburn 
to her confidential friend our detective as one who had 
at "heart the welfare of the Southern Confederacy, and 
Mrs. Trainor presented her to Train or, her husband, say- 
ing that he too was a friend of the South, and ardently 
desired its success in the struggle for independence. 
This interview proved the precursor of many others, in 
which Trainor and his wife made many interesting state- 
ments concerning themselves and the assistance which 
they had rendered to the rebel army. 

From Trainor she thus gained the following remark- 
able information. In the fall of 1861, he had run the 
•Federal blockade and brought from Louisville to Nash- 
ville, for the use of the Confederate army, several wagon- 
loads of arms, ammunition, drugs, and medicines. These 
he had purchased in Louisville — the arms and ammuni- 
tion from a Mr. Bull, and the drugs and medicines from 
Dr. Pile. While in Nashville on this business, he made 
the acquaintance of General Zollicoffer, who advised him 
to abandon the neutral position he then occupied in regard 
to the war and engage in the service of the Confederates. 
This he agreed to do ; and, the better to accomplish his 
ends, he was to obtain the position of Master of Trans- 
portation in the Ordnance Department of the Federal 
army. On his return to Louisville he had applied for 
the situation, which was given him. Since then he had 
improved the advantages it offered, by following the 
Federal army down into Alabama with wagon-loads bf 
contraband goods, which, according to previous arrange- 
ment, he disposed of at different places. During the 
whole Buell campaign the rebels knew, at all times, the 
strength of the escort which accompanied him, and if 
they did not capture his train it was not his fault. In 
the different skirmishes between the two arnjies he so 
managed that his train w^as never in its right place, and 
frequently the rebels would capture a portion of it, but 



THE TRAITOR WAGON-MASTER. 357 

would not take him prisoner, as it would be against their 
own interests to do so. 

He regretted very much that the Confederates had not 
captured a train of one hundred and sixteen wagons, once 
under his charge, while General Buell was on his march 
to Kentucky in September last. He had requested Mrs. 
Winburn to inform Generals Morgan and Forrest where 
they could find the train, and how many men the escort 
numbered. This she did ; and he was so sure they would 
capture the train that he took Mrs. Winburn and his wife 
along for some distance from Nashville to see the fun of 
the capture. He had with him a young man — formerly 
in the Confederate army, but at that time in his employ 
-^who was so disappointed because the train was not 
captured that he blew up and destroyed twenty-five of 
the wagons as they were passing over a certain bridge, 
and this, he said, was done with his own knowledge and 
consent, and partially at his suggestion. 

After General Kosecrans assumed command of the 
Army of the Cumberland, Trainor said he began to pur- 
chase, from the Federal officers and soldiers, and from 
others who would sell them, pistols for General Wheeler, 
Dick McCann, and the guerrilla bands in the country. 
Some of them he carried to the rebels himself, and the 
balance he sent by a man named Kevins, who lived in 
Kentucky and had a contract to furnish cattle to the 
Federal army. This ISTevins usually had with him some 
of Morgan's men, through whom he kept the Confederates 
continually informed of the number and movements of 
Federal troops along the line of the Louisville & Nashville 
Railroad, and he had acted as a guide for Kirby Smith 
when the latter invaded Kentucky last fall. Trainor 
further said that he (Trainor) now had charge of the 
army transportation at Nashville, and that about the time 
of the battles at Stone River he was in the rebel camp 
and gave information. At this -the lady remarked — 



358 THE TRAITOR WAGON-MASTER. 

" That accounts for the succ'ess of the Confederates in. 
capturing so many of the Federal wagons." 

" You may come to what conclusions on that subject 
you please," answered Trainor. . 

The young man, he continued, who was with him at 
the time of Buell's retreat, and blew up the twenty-five 
wagons, was still in his employ ; and one night, not long 
since, by his management, five hundred mules belonging 
to the United States had stampeded and mysteriously 
disappeared from their corral. Many other interesting 
things which the young man had done for the benefit of the 
Confederate Government Trainor related with relish, and 
seemed desirous to impress upon the mind of his hearer 
that he himself was at all times anxious to serve the 
rebels and injure the Federal Government in every pos- 
sible way. Seeing this disposition on his part, she sug- 
gested that he could now do more good by purchasing 
arms, quinine, and other medicines for the use of the 
Confederate army than in any other way, and adding that 
she had a friend in Louisville who was a secret agent for 
that very purpose, and who would assist him in getting 
them South. 

Trainor replied that he had then on hand one and a 
half pounds of quinine and two or three splendid pistols, 
which he would like to send South, and that he could 
procure any quantity of pistols if the money was furnished 
to purchase them. 

The lady then proposed to buy his pistols and quinine, 
if he would deliver them to her friend in Louisville, who 
would send them through the lines. 

Trainor assented, and sold her the quinine and four 
pistols, for which he received from her two hundred dol- 
lars. He also proposed to, and did, write to Mr. Bull 
and Dr. Pile, of Louisville, requesting them to furnish 
the secret agent above mentioned such quantity of qui- 
nine, pistols, and knives as he might wish for the Con- 
federate service. He further said that he had a friend 



THE TRAITOR WAGON-MASTER. 359 

by tlie name of Kellogg, in whom lie had confidence, ai^ 
for whom he had obtained ^ pass and transportation to 
Louisville, and that he would send the quinine and pistols 
by him, instead of by his wife, as had been previously 
arranged. Implicit faith could be reposed in Kellogg, 
as he had recently engaged in running horses to the Con- 
federacy, and was now trying to assist a rebel prisoner 
to escape from the penitentiary. His friend Mr. Bull, 
continued Trainor, had a brother who was. chief clerk m 
the Quartermaster's Department of the Union army, and 
as good a secessionist as his brother, and who had a muQh 
better chance to serve the South than he had. jfie 
thought the Federals would have a good time whipping 
the Confederates, when many of the important offices of 
the different army departments were filled by friends of 
the latter. '. 

The reason assigned for sending the quinine and pistols 
to the South by the way of Louisville was that it afibrdefd 
less chance of detection than to send directly from Nash- 
ville, as the Federal army had a vigilant police, and' it 
was almost impossible to get them through the lines' :^n 
that direction. Accordingly, as agreed, Trainor, about 
the middle of March, did send to Louisville, by his friend 
Kellogg, the quinine and pistols that hua been purchased 
of him, and which, on their arrival, were delivered to the 
supposed secret agent of the Confederacy, as will here- 
after be related. \ r 

About the same time there arrived at the City Hotel, a 
gentleman representing himself as Dr. Dubois, an agent 
of the Confederate States Army, and just from Brag^^s 
command. As he had with him a genuine pass, signed 
by General Bragg and countersigned by General Breckin- 
ridge, his statement was readily accepted as true by me 
proprietors of the hotel and its habitues. For nearly^^a 
week after his arrival he was confined to his room, hy^a 
severe sickness, during which he was carefully nursed, oy 
Mrs. Winburn. As soon as recovered, he was introduced 



360 THE TRAITOR WAGON-MASTER. 

by Mrs. W. to Trainor, as a friend of hers wlio had jnst 
come to Nashville from Bragg's army to purchase medi- 
cines and goods to be sent South through the Federal 
lines. Dubois at once expressed his desire of purchasing 
pistols and medicines^ and requested Trainor to assist 
him. 

Trainor eagerly assented, and said, " I will furnish you 
nine." 

"But I want and must have more." 

" Well, I will get them for you, and will leave them at 
Mrs. Davidson's, six miles put on the Charlotte pike. 
Some of my army-wagons are going out that way after 
wood, and I can easily carry them with me." 

Mrs. Winburn had previously sold Dubois three pistols, 
for which she had been promised twenty-five dollars each, 
two of which Trainor took with him to his camp to 
add to those he had there, and to take them all .out 
together as soon as possible. Dubois said that he would 
conceal in the muzzle of the third pistol important infor- 
mation, written in cipher, and a letter to General 
Cheatham, telling him that a lot of pistols had been pro- 
cured through the influence of Captain Trainor, and were 
now on their way South, to which was added a request 
that he would set Trainor right with the Confederates 
when they got possession of Nashville. This pistol 
Trainor called for and carried away the next evening, 
but on the day following returned and said that he was 
totally unable to carry them out to Mrs. Davidson's, as 
he had expected to. Dubois then told him he had a 
friend who would take them out, and he might bring 
them back to the hotel — which he agreed to do the next 
evening. ^ 

He came as he had promised, bringing with him eight 
revolvers on his person, some of them in his waist-belt 
and some in his boot-legs. As he handed them over, and 
while Dubois was putting them under the blanket on the 
bed, he remarked that he had on several occasions taken 



THE TRAITOR WAGON-MASTER. 361 

out on bis person as many pistols as he had just brought 
in. Mrs. Winburn, who was present, boasted that she 
had taken out four blankets on her person, and that a 
lady friend had carried out beneath her skirts, in the 
same way, a cavalry saddle. "While this conversation 
was still progressing, all parties, mcluding Mrs. Winburn, 
Trainor, and Dubois, were arrested, the latter being ironed 
and sent out — ostensibly to prison, but more probably to 
some other field of operations, where his skill in detect- 
ing rebel smugglers and spies might be made equally 
useful. 

Mrs. Trainor had already returned to Louisville, and 
had been there some days. The medicines which had 
been forwarded by Kellogg were in her possession, and 
she was anxiously awaiting a visit from the secret agent 
of- the Confederacy, to whom she could deliver them and 
make with him arrangements for the purchase of more. 
She had been telegraphed by her Nashville friends that 
he would call on her in a few days ; and, as some time 
had elapsed since the receipt of the despatch, she began 
to wonder why he did not come. One day, as she was 
returning in a carriage to her house, in what is known as 
California Suburb, on Fifteenth Street beyond Kentucky 
Street, she espied coming from it* a well-dressed, hand- 
some-appearing young man, who wore conspicuously a 
large red-white-and-red cravat. As he came opposite to 
the carriage, he hailed the driver, and asked — 

"How far are you going?" 

"Just to yoncler house," replied the coachman, pointing 
to Mrs. Trainor's, the house he had just come from. 

" Yery well : I will wait here for you, then, and go 
back with you." 

During the time occupied in this colloquy, and as long 
as she could see him from the carriage- window, Mi's. 
Trainor eyed him earnestly, as though she suspected he 
was the person she. was anxious to see. Nothing was 
said, however, and on reaching home she went in and 



303 THE TRAITOR WAGON-MASTER. 

found on tine table a note for "her from one H. C. Davis, 
stating that he was the secret agent of the Confederacy, 
that he had just called to see about the medicines, and 
was sorry to find her out. The signature to the note was 
" Truth and Fidelity," — a sure guarantee that there was 
no deception in the matter. Meanwhile the coach had re- 
turned to where the prospective passenger was left stand- 
ing, when that gentleman took his seat inside and directed 
the driver to turn around and go again to the house he 
had just left. Mrs. Train or met Davis at the door and 
welcomed him most cordially. Holding out her hand, 
she said — 

" I thought as much. I was sure it was you when I 
first put my eye on you." 

" Why, madam, what could have made you think so ?" 

" Oh, that cravat ! Kobody else would wear it. But 
3^ou must be very careful about it. It isn't safe. You'll 
be suspected." . 

" Oh, I guess there's no danger. I have friends enough 
in Louisville to take care of me." 

The two then entered the house and engaged in earnest 
conversation. Davis said that he was just about shipping 
some goods to the South, and he would like to send what 
medicine ,she could furnish along with them. He made 
it a practice to make as few shipments as possible in 
order to avoid suspicion. 

It was all ready, she said, and he might have it as soon 
as he wished. 

Davis made arrangements 'to have the^n delivered at 
an appointed time, and proposed the purchase of a large 
quantity in addition to that she -had brought from Kash- 
ville. She entered eagerly into the business, and said she 
would ascertain at what prices she could obtain quinine, 
morphine, and pulverized opium. The next day she 
reported that she could get them from a man named Tafel, 
who kept a small prescription store — the quinine for six 
dollars an ounce, the morphine at eight dollars an ounce, 



THE TRAITOR Wagon-master. 3G3 

and tlie pulverized opium at fourteen dollars a pound. 
Davis thought this rather high, but said he would take 
them at that price. He wanted a thousand ounces of 
quinine and smaller quantities of "the others. After 
making arrangements for the purchase of the medicines 
and a supply of pistols — which was to be furnished by- 
Mr. Bull at thirty dollars each — Davis went to the city 
to prepare for their shipment South. 

The next evening he called again to invite Mrs. Trainor 
to the theatre, and was told that there was a difficulty 
about the medicines. Tafel was fearful that he could not 
make so large a puj-chase on his individual credit, and 
that he wished. the money advanced to buy them with. 
Davis replied that he never did business in that way. 
He would pay cash on delivery, and if Tafel could not 
furnish them on those terms they must look elsewhere. 
Mrs. Trainor thought there would be no difficulty about 
it. Tafel was to procure them of a wholesale druggist 
named Wilder, and the matter could doubtless be arranged 
to the satisfaction of all concerned. In fact, she could 
safely promise that it should be ready by the next after- 
noon. At his next visit, Davis was told that the medi- 
cines had been purchased, and were ready for delivery, 
when and where he pleased. 

He wished them delivered at her house, he said, early 
the next morning. He was all ready to ship, and was only 
Avaiting for them. Mrs. Trainor engaged that they should 
be there without fail, and Davis returned to the city, 
having first arranged with a Federal soldier whom he 
found at her house — a deserter from the Anderson Cavalry 
— to go South and act as a scout for General Breckinridge 
in his expected movement into Kentifcky. The next 
morning, instead of himself coming to receive the goods 
as he had promised, he sent out a force of policemen, who 
reached there just as the wagon containing the medicines 
drove up to the door. Mrs. Trainor, the driver, and the 
deserter were taken into custody, and the former was sent 



364 NOT USED TO IT. 

immediately to Nashville. The wagon w^as found to 
contain drugs — mostly quinine and opium — to the value 
of about five thousand five hundred dollars, according to 
the wholesaler's bill, and eight thousand eight hundred 
dollars at Tafel's prices. The pistols did not come, Bull 
having failed to procure them. Wilder and Bull were 
also arrested, and the store of the former seized, with its 
contents, valued at from fifty thousand to seventy-five 
thousand dollars. Tafel's prescription shop was converted 
by General Boyle into a medical dispensary for the hos- 
pitals of Louisville, and is now used as such. Since her 
arrest, Mrs. Trainor has been heard to say that she was 
fearful that secret agent of the Confederacy was only 
"one of Truesdail's spies," in which supposition she was 
more than usually correct. 



A CUTE DAEKEY. 

" Bob," now called Belmont Bob, is the body servant 
of General Clernand, and at the battle of Belmont it is 
said of him that when the retreat commenced he started 
for the boats. Eeaching the banks, he dismounted and 
slid rapidly down, when an officer seeing the action, 
called out — ■ 

" Stop, you rascal; and bring along the horse." 

Merely looking up as he waded to the plank through 
the mud, the darkey replied — 

" Can't bey, colonel ; major told me to save the most 
valuable property, and dis nigger's worf mor'n a horse." 



NOT USED TO IT. " 

A good joke is told from the other side of the lines, of 
a member of one of the volunteer companies which went 
down to Fensacola. We think it was a Mississippi 



NEWCOMER THE SCOUT. 865 

(rebel) company, and it is said to be a fact. Being ac- 
customed to fresb w,ater, living in the interior, and not 
Laving been on the Gulf of Mexico before, he was in 
blissful ignorance of its briny properties. Getting up in 
the morning to perform his daily ablutions, he drew a 
bucket fall of water, set it down near some of his com- 
rades, and retired for soap and towel. The consequences 
. can be imagined. Eecovering from the shock, and rub- 
bing his burning eyeballs, he exclaimed : " I can whip the 

d d rascal that salted this water. A man can't draw 

a bucket of water, and leave it for a few minutes, without 
some prank is played upon him." 

Dashing the Avater aside, he left amid the shouts and 
jeers of his companions who had been silently watching 
him. 

ITE¥OOMEE THE SCOUT. 

Our hero was a private in the Eleventh Indiana Battery, 
and accompanied Buell in his severe march from Nash- 
ville, Tenn., over almost impassable roads and through 
swollen streams to Pittsburg Landing and Shiloh — not 
arriving, however, in time to participate in the battle. 
Thence he went to Corinth, remaining there until its 
evacuation by the rebels, and thence to Huntsville and 
Stevenson, Alabama. Here, the monotony of camp and 
stockade . life becoming irksome, he began to vary it by 
scouting on his own .account. Frequently at night, after 
tattoo, he would mount his horse, slip past the pickets, 
scour the neighboring country in quest of information 
and adventure, and return again before reveille, his ab- 
sence seldom being noticed by any one. On one occasion, 
something of more than ordinary importance having come 
to his notice, he reported it to Colonel Harker, of the 65th 
Ohio Volunteers, then commanding the brigade stationed 
at that post, stating the means by which he had obtained 
the information, and giving some account of his previous 



366 NEWCOMER THE SCOUT. 

midniglit scouts. The colonel, highly pleased, at once 
gave him passes, and instructed him to continue the 
business as he had time and opportunity. 

Frequently he would go down to the Tennessee Eiver 
in sight of the rebel pickets ; and one night he concluded 
to cross the river and get a nearer view of them. Strik- 
ing the stream at a point three mil^ from Stevenson, he 
built a raft of rails and paddled himself across. Crawl- 
ing up the bank through, the brush, he came close upon 
the pickets, seven in num'ber, without being observed. 
After watching their movements a while and finding 
nothing of particular interest, he returned safely as he 
went. Soon afterwards a negro told him of an island in 
the Tennessee Eiver, some ten miles below Stevenson, 
on which a company of guerrilla cavalry were in the 
habit of rendezvousing every night. This opened a large 
field of operations for our scout, and he determined to 
visit the island forthwith. 

One afternoon, borrowing a suit of butternut from a 
negro at Stevenson, he set fortb in that direction. The 
butternut clothes were carried under his saddle until he 
was fairly -outside of our lines, when he exchanged his 
own for fhem and went on in the character of a genuine 
native. Eeaching the river opposite the island after dark, 
he again construct^ a raft of rails, fastening them together 
this time with grape-vines, and shoved across the narrow 
channel- to the island, landing in a dense canebrake. 
Carefully feeling his way through this, he came soon 
to a corn-crib, around which twenty-five or thirty horses 
were feeding. It was now ten o'clock, and quite dark, 
but clear and starlight. Examining the crib, the entrance 
was discovered about ,half-way up, and our adventurer 
at once clambered up and put his head and shoulders 
through. Careful listening revealed the presence of 
sleepers within. Putting his hand down to see how far 
it was to them, it came in contact with the body of a man. 
Wishing to know in, what direction he was lying, he felt 



NEWCOMER THE SCOUT. SCt 

along carefally and came upon a pistol in his belt, 
"Working at this/ lie soon drew it ont, and, finding it a 
good Colt's revolver, put it into his pocket and got down 
again. Exploring around, he came to a corn-patch and 
a cabin near . by, in which there seemed, from the noise 
within, to be a family or two of negroes. 

Crossing to the Sbuth or rebel side of the island, he 
found that the stream was much narrower there than on 
the other -side, and that close to the shore a number of 
boats and scows, in which the*band crossed and recrossed, 
were tied. It was now time to think about getting home, 
and he circled around the crib and cabin to reach the 
place where he had left his raft. When he came in sight 
of it, there was also to be seen a human form standing 
by the water's edge and apparently regarding the raft 
with no little astonishment. In the uncertain light, it 
was impossible to tell whether it was a man or woman, 
white or black; and there was nothing to do, but wait 
until it disappeared. Crouching down amid the canes, 
he soon saw it turn and begin to climb the bank directly 
towards him, and as a precautionary measure took out 
the pistol and cocked it, though he could not see or feel 
whether it was loaded or not. The person proved to be 
a negro,^ and passed by, unconscious of the presence of 
any one so near, soliloquizing to hinisfelf thus — 

"Mighty quare boat, dat ar; 'spec's some of Masser 
John's work." . 

The danger having passed, our self-appointed spy de- 
scended, and re- embarked on his raft. Lest any one 
should see him, he lay flat upon it, paddling with extended 
arms, the whole presenting very much the appearance 
of a floating mass of driftwood. By the time he reached 
the opposite shore his butternut suit was pretty thoroughly 
soaked, but without stopping to dry it, he mounted his 
horse, which he found straying about the woods, rode on 
to Stevenson, and reported to Colonel Harker. An ex- 
pedition for the capture of this band — afterwards ascer- 



368 NEWCOMER THE SCOUT. 

tained to be Captain Eoundtree's company — was just 
about starting, when orders were received to evacuate 
the place and fall back to Nashville with the remainder 
of Buell's army. 

The battery went no farther backward than ISTashville, 
remaining there during the famous investment of the city 
and until the Army of the Cumberl^d again reached it. 
Meanwhile, Newcomer was occasionally employed by' 
General Negley as a detective ; but most of the time was 
spent with his command. Early in December the police 
and scout system was fully organized and in successful 
operation. Our former scout, thinking that he could 
serve the Government to better advantage in the busi- 
ness with which he was so familiar, made application to 
Colonel Truesdail for employment as a scout and spy. 
The colonel, pleased with his appearance and conversa- 
tion, at once made an enga^gement with him, and procured 
his detail for that special service. Having previously 
made the acquaintance of one Cale Harrison, a livery- 
stable-keeper, he now called oil him, and, exhibiting a 
forged certificate of discharge, told him that he was on 
his way to the rebel army. Harrison, of course, was 
highly pleased to hear it, and gave him some valuable 
hints and information for his guidance in the matter. 
There was, he said, a man living on the Charlotte4)ike, 
by the name of Spence, whose son was an aide-de-camp 
on the staff of General Polk, and who would undoubtedly 
assist him in getting South and give him a letter of 
introduction to his son. In this event the road would 
be clear, and no difficulty need be apprehended in mak- 
ing the trip. 

Thus directed, he set forth from Nashville on a scout 
South, with saddle-bags well filled with fine-tooth combs, 
needles, pins, thread, &c., and carrying two fine navy 
revolvers. Going directly to Spence's, he introduced" 
himself, said he had called by recommendation of Harri- 
son, made known his business, and asked for a letter to 



NEWCOMER THE SCOUT. 369 

Kis son, on General Polk's staff. Spence received him 
cordially, but would not furnisli him with the desired 
letter. He referred him, however, to J. Wesley Ratcliffe, 
living about one mile from Franklin, on the Lewisbarg 
pike, as a person likely to render him very material 
assistance. This Ratcliffe was a rebel agent for the pur- 
chase of stock and commissary stores, and was well 
known throughout the whole country. Pushing on, he 
accordingly called at Ratcliffe's, and made his acquaint- 
ance. When informed of his plans and purposes and 
shown ^e goods, Ratcliffe was much pleased, and soon 
became' very friendly, advising him to go to Shelby ville, 
■where such articles were greatly needed and could easily 
be disposed of. 

Newcomer accordingly started for Shelby ville, and for 
some time met with no incidents on the way. Between 
Caney Springs and Rover, however, he fell in with a 
band of rebel cavalry belonging to General Buford's com- 
mand, who, on being made acquainted with his business, 
advised him not to go to Shelbyville, as considerable 
trouble might be experienced there. Their bushy shocks 
of hair suggesting that they were combless, he offered 
his stock for sale, chatting meanwhile with them about 
matters and things in general and in that vicinity in 
particular. Combs which cost two dollars per dozen he 
sold for two dollars each, and other articles in proportion, 
and, by the time his trading was finished, had ascertained 
that General Buford was stationed at Rover to guard a 
large mill full of flour and meal, the size of his command, 
the number and calibre of his guns, and other items of 
importance, and also what generals and troops were at 
Shelbyville. 

The cavalrymen now wished him to go back to Nash- 
ville and bring them some pistols on his return. This 
he agreed to do, and, having obtained all the information 
he cared for at this time, turned his horse about and once 
more set his face toward Nashville. The two pistols 
24 



370 NEWCOMER THE SCOUT. 

which he had carried with him he had not shown, and 
still had them in his possession, which circumstance was 
the cause of a slight adventure on the way home. 

He had proceeded but a little way when he met with 
a small squad of cavalry, who halted him, as usual, and 
demanded his name, business, and where he was going. 
These questions satisfactorily answered, he was next 
asked if he had any pistols about him. He replied that 
he had two, and was forthwith ordered by a rough-looking 
Texan to produce them, which was hardly done before 
they were coolly appropriated by his interrogator. Ee- 
monstrance was followed by abuse and threats of violence, 
and it was only by the intervention of other parties that 
the matter was compromised by the sale of the pistols at 
fifty dollars each, and our traveller allowed to go on his 
way rejoicing. Without interruption head-quarters were 
reached, and a report of operations duly made. 

Eemaining two days at Nashville, he started again, 
with three pistols and the balance of the old stock of goods. 
The first night was spent at Eatcliflfe's, and the next day 
both went to Murfreesborough in a buggy. Eatcliffe 
had business to transact with the provost-marshal, and a 
number of the generals and inferior officers to see, and 
Newcomer was taken round and introduced to all as a 
colaborer in the cause of the South. During his four 
days' stay he was all over the town, through several of 
the camps, in many of the houses, drank whiskey with 
General Frank Cheatham, went to a grand party at the 
court-house, and made love to a dozen or more young 
ladies of Secession proclivities — aided in all this by a 
perfect self-possession, an easy, graceful manner and a 
winning face. In addition to pleasure-seeking and love- 
making, he also drove a thriving business in the sale of 
pistols and other contraband goods, and with pockets 
filled with money and head stored with information, 
returned with Eatcliffe to his house, and thence to Nash- 
ville — having first made arrangements with the former to 



NEWCOMER THE SCOUT. 3T1 

accompany him to Shelbyville tlie next day. Arriving 
at Nashville after dark, he remained there until morning, 
and then made preparations and started for a third trip. 

With a pair or two of cotton-cards, a lot of pistol-caps, 
and some smaller knick-knacks, as passports to favor, he 
set forth . once more to join-Eatcliffe; but, having been 
unavoidably delayed in starting, he found him already 
gone. Nothing was now to be done but to push 'boldly 
ahead in the hope of overtaking him on the road or 
meeting him at Shelbyville. With the exception of 
Ratclifie, not a soul there knew him. Trusting to good 
fortune, he travelled on, and reached Shelbyville in due 
season without trouble. 

The usual questions were asked him by guards and 
pickets, to all of which he replied that he lived in David- 
son County, was going to visit some friends in the 44th 
Tennessee Eegiment, and had, moreover, a small stock 
of contraband goods for sale. These answers proving 
satisfactory, he was passed through, and reached the town 
early in the forenoon. Most of the day he spent in riding 
about, looking into quartermasters' and commissary 
depots, inquiring the names of officers, the number of 
troops, commanders, &c., until he had ascertained all that 
he wished. By this time night was drawing near, and it 
was high time to think about getting out of town ; for 
should he remain after dark he was certain to be arrested. 
Eatcliffe was nowhere to be seen ; and on inquiry he was 
told that he had gone to Atlanta, Georgia, on the train, 
and that nobody knew when he would be back. Here 
was a desperate state of affairs. Get out of town he must, 
and to get out he must have a pass. It was easy enough 
to come in, but very difficult to get out. Nobody knew 
hiin ; and, in fact, for once in his life, he was at a loss 
what to do. ^ 

While thus troubled, he met some citizens of Davidson 
County who had been over the river to the camps of 
Cheatham and McCown's division and were now on their 



372 NEWCOMER THE SCOUT, 

way to the provost-marslial to procure return passes. 
Misery loves company, and, with long face, he told them 
his trouble — dressing it up with a considerable amount 
of fiction to suit the occasion. By way of adding ear- 
nestness to his entreaty and to open a sure path to their 
sympathies, he bought a bottle of whiskey and invited 
them all to drink with him. The liquor warmed their 
hearts *as well as stomachs; and while hobnobbing to- 
gether he asked them if they wouldn't vouch to the pro- 
vost-marshal and thus enable him to procure a pass. 
Being now in a condition to ■ love the world and every- 
body in it, they promised to do so, and in due season all 
went for passes. His seven newly-made friends found 
no difficulty in their suit, their names being all written 
on a single pass ; but our scout was left unnoticed. The 
attention of the provost-marshal was called to him, when 
that functionary asked if any of them were personally 
acquainted with him. 

Though rebels, they would not lie — possibly they 
thought it was not necessary — and answered, "No," but 
they would vouch for him. But that would not do. 
His situation was now worse than ever. He not only 
had no pass, but had not the slightest chance of getting 
one. The whiskey investment had proved a losing 
speculation ; and he knew not where to turn for relief. 
The loungers about the ofB.ce began to eye him suspi- 
ciously, and even the dogs seemed disposed to growl and 
snap at him as having no' business there. The place was 
getting too hot for safety ; and his only hope of escape 
was to hurry out and lose himself in the crowd. 

His new friends were still outside, waiting for him ; 
and with them a long consultation was held as to what had 
better be done about getting away, as every moment 
added to- his already serious danger. Finally, one of the 
party suggested that he should go with them anyhow — 
that the pickets would not be likely to ' notice that his 
name was not on the pass, there being so many already 



NEWCOMER THE SCOUT. 373 

on it. In default of anything better^ this proposition was 
agreed to, and all set out together. Kewcomer, however, 
was still far from easy about the matter, and was fearful 
that the plan would not work. 

As they were journeying along, he proposed to the one 
who had the pass that he should be allowed to write his 
own name on the pass with a pencil, and if any objection 
should be made to it they might say that he belonged to 
the party but did not come in until the pass was made 
out, and that the j^rovost-marshal, to save writing a new- 
one, had inserted the name in pencil-mark. This was 
assented to and done. The amended pass carried them 
safely through, and the last cloud of anxiety was lifted 
from his troubled mind. 

Some twelve or fifteen miles having been passed over 
pleasantly, Newcomer purposely lagged behind and al- 
lowed the others to get far ahead, when he turned off' and 
struck across to the Lewisburg and Franklin pike. 
Travelling on this about ten miles, he stopped for the 
night, with five of Wheeler's cavalry, at the house of a 
man who had a son in Forrest's command. Starting the 
jiext morning betimes, he reached Eatcliffe's the same 
evening, but found he had not yet reached home. 
Stopping a few moments, he passed on through Franklin 
towards Nashville. He had gone some seven miles, and 
was near Brentwood, when he saw four cavalrymen riding 
furiously down a lane just ahead of him. They and our 
hero reached the entrance at the same moment. The leader 
of the squad — who proved to be Captain Harris, a scout of 
John Morgan's, and who, as well as his three men, was 
very drunk — roughly halted him, and, riding up, pistol 
in hand, shouted — 

" Who are you, and where do you live?" 

" My name is Newcomer, and I- live six miles from 
Nashville, near Brent Spence's," was the ready, respectful 
reply. 

Spence was well known to all, and no further trouble 



374 NEWCOMER THE SCOUT. 

was apprehended; but the drunken captain was not so- 
easily satisfied. He soon asked — 

" Where have you been, and what in the are you 

doing here ?" 

" I have been to Shelbj^ville to see Spence's son^ and I 
took along some contraband goods to sell." 

" You can go back to Franklin with me, sir !" 

Protestation was unavailing; and without more ado 
he turned about and all started towards Franklin. On 
the way Harris asked if he had any arms with him, and, 
on being told that he had two fine revolvers and some 
cartridges, ordered him to give them np, which was done. 
With a savage leer he then said — • 

" I know all about you. You're a Yankee spy. 

You have been going backwards and forwards here so 
much that the citizens of Franklin have suspected you 
for a long time, and have reported you. I am satisfied 
that you are a Yankee spy ; and I am going to hang you, 

you. Bragg has ordered me never to bring in spies, 

but to shoot or hang them like dogs, on the spot ; and I 
am going to make a beginning with you, now, this very 
night." 

" If you do that," was the reply, " you'll take the life 
of a good and true man. I can show by J. W. Eatcliffe 
that I am a true Southerner, that I have done much good 
for the cause — very likely much more than you have — 
and that I am doing good every day I live." 

■"Captain," said one of the men, "it may be that he is 
an important man to our cause; and you had better see 
Eatcliffe and inquire into his case." 

Harris studied a moment, and finally concluded to go 
with the prisoner to Katcliffe's and confer about the 
matter — at the same time assuring him that it was of no 
use, for he should certainly hang him anyhow. At 
Franklin all stopped to drink, and Harris and his men 
became beastly drunk. Reeling into their saddles, they 
were once more on their way to Eatcliffe's, but had gone 



NEWCOMER THE SCOUT. 375 

only a short distance, wlaen Harris wheeled his horse and 
hiccoughed out — 

" Boys, there's no use in fooling. I am satisfied this 

fellow's a — Yankee .spy ; and here's just as good a 

place as we can find to hang him. Take the halter off 
that horse's neck and bring it here." 

. It was indeed a fitting place in which to do foul mur- 
der. Kot a house was to be seen ; and the road wound 
through one of those cedar thickets so dense that even in 
mid-day it is almost dark within them. It was now 
night, and the sombre shade even more gloomy than ever, 
as Harris jumped from his horse, and, taking the halter, 
made a noose of it, and, fitting it around the neck of the 
unlucky scout, drew it up uncomfortably tight, until, in 
fact, it was just about strangling him. 

Now or never was the time to expostulate and entreat. 
In a moment it might be to late ; and then farewell home, 
friends, and all the joys of life ! It is not hard to die in 
peace, surrounded by weeping friends, or even to meet 
the dread king in the shock and excitement of battle ; 
but to hang like a dog ! — the idea is sickening, appalling ; 
and it is no sign of cowardice to shrink from it. One 
more effort, then, for life, even if it be to supplicate for 
mercy from a drunken rebel. 

" Captain," said he, with great feeling, '' it is wrong to 
take a man's life on so slight a suspicion. It is a vast 
responsibility to take upon one's self; and you may do 
something for which you will be sorry by-and-by, in 
your calmer moments, and for which you may be even 
punished when it comes to the knowledge of General 
Bragg." 

To which came the rough and heartless answer, "I 
know my business ; and I don't want any advice from a 

Yankee spy. When I do, I'll let you know. 

Come along," shouted he, seizing the rope and dragging 
his victim towards a tree. " I know my duty, and am 



376 ■ NEWCOMER THE SCOUT. 

going to do it, too. Come on, men, and let's swing np 
this — — rascally spy." 

They refused to come to his assistance, however, say- 
ing that they were as ready as he to do their (Juty, but 
they wanted to be a little better satisfied about the matter. 
It was only half a mile to Eatcliffe's, and it would be a 
very easy thing to go and see what he said about it. 
Harris would not listen a moment, and again ordered 
them to come and help him, which they dared not longer 
refuse. 

The case now appeared hopeless. Death stared him in 
the face, and life, with all its memories and pleasures, 
seemed passing dreamily away. Looking into the cedars 
hanging heavy with darkness, they seemed the entrance 
to the valley of the shadow of death, beyond which lay 
the infinite and mysterious future. On the verge of the 
grave life was yet sweet — yet worth striving for ; and, 
as a last effort, the unfortunate man went up to Harris, 
placed his hand on his shoulder, and asked him if he 
would promise, on the word and honor of a gentleman, 
that he would go to General Bragg and give him a true 
statement of the affair, narrating every circumstance as 
it actually occurred. Then, turning to the men, he asked 
them if they would do it, provided the captain did nQt. 
Less hardened than the captain, they feelingly answered 
that they would; and the earnestness with which they 
replied was proof enough that they would make good 
their words. This set the captain to thinking. He 
evidently didn't like the idea of Bragg's hearing about it, . 
and, after some moments' reflection, concluded to go to 
Katcliffe's and see what he would say. The rope was 
removed, and they resumed their journey — the captain 
still swearing it would do no good, as nothing could save 
him, for he was bound to hang him that very night. 

Life still hung on a thread, however. In the afternoon, 
when Kewcomer had been there, Katclifte had not re- 
turned, and if he were not now at home nothing would 



NEWCOMER THE SCOUT. 877 

prevent Harris from carrying ont his threat, whicli he 
seemed determined to execute. That half-mile was the 
longest ride Newcomer ever took. ' Np lights were to be 
seen ; but it was near midnight, and it might be that all 
were abed. Harris left the prisoner at the gate, in charge 
of the other three, and went np , to the house. He 
knocked on the window, and ISTewcomer thought it was 
the thumping of his own heart. Fortunately Ratcliffe 
was at home, and came hurriedly to the door, without 
stopping to, dress. The two conversed in a low tone for 
some time, when Eatcliflfe was heard to exclaim, " I'll be 

if you do !" and instantly started down towards the 

gate. Coming up to the prisoner, and throwing one arm 
around his neck, while he took his hand in his, he said 
to him — 

" Great God ! Harry, how fortunate that I am at home !" 

After they had talked a while together, Harris came 
np again, and called Katcliffe to one side, where they had 
another protracted conversation in a low, whispering 
tone. "While they were thus engaged, a large owl on a 
tree near by began hooting, and was speedily answered 
by another some distance np the road. The three men 
mounted their horses at once and galloped to the road, 
shouting, at the top of their voices — 

" Captain, we're surrounded ! This is a trap. Don't 
you hear the signals ?" 

The captain stepped to the road, listened a moment, 
and then, with a volley of oaths, order^ed them back for 
" a pack of — 7- fools to be scared at an owl." Still 
quaking with fear, which did not entirely leave them 
nntil they were fairly away from the place, they resumed 
their places, the owls hooting lustily all the while. 

Harris and Ratcliffe continued their Bbnversation for a 
few minutes, when the former came towards Newcomer 
with a pistol and some papers in each hand, saying, as 
he gave them to him — 

" I release you, and restore your property, on the word 



378 NEWCOMER THE SCOUT. 

« 

of Quartermaster Eatcliffe. He assures me that you are 
one of the most important men in the South, and a secret 
agent of the Confederacy. I am very sorry that this 
thing has occurred, and will make any amends in my 
power. If you desire, I will go with you to Chai'lotte 
pike as an escort, or will do you any favor you may 
ask." 

'' N'o," said Eatcliffe, "he must come in and stay all 
night with me. I can't let him go on to-night." 

While standing at the gate, during this conversation, 
our released prisoner sold his pistols to the cavalrymen 
for Tennessee money. Just at this moment, too, a squad of 
cavalry belonging to Starns's command came by. One of 
them, to whom Newcomer had sold a pistol some weeks 
before, recognized him at once, and shook hands with him 
very cordially. He corroborated Ratcliffe's statement, 
saying that Newcomer was on very important business for 
the South, which was rendered still more so by the fight 
having begun at Stewart's Creek. A short time was 
passed in general conversation, when all left except New- 
comer, who hitched his horse to the porch and went in with 
Eatcliffe. When sufficient time had elapsed for them to 
be well out of the way. Newcomer said his business was 
of too much importance to brook delay, and he must be 
off at once. Eatcliffe said if he must go he could not urge 
him to stay. " I will go with you to your horse," said he ; 
" meanwhile take this to keep you from further trouble. 
If anybody stops you again, just show them this, and you 
will be passed at once." 

So saying, he took from his pocket a large government 
envelope — of which he had an abundance — and wrote on 
it, ''All right, J, W. Batcliffey 

Armed with this, he started again, and reached the 
pickets of the 5th Kentucky Cavalry, who brought him 
into the city. It was nearly three o'clock in the morning 
when he arrived at the police-office : but the colonel was 



NEWCOMER THE SCOUT. 379 

still up, and immediately telegraphed his report to head- 
quarters. 

The next day, nothing daunted, he set out again, and 
went, as usual, first to Eatcliffe's, where he remained all 
night — thence the next morning travelled, by way of 
Hart's Cross-Eoads and Caney Spring, to Murfreesbo- 
roughf reaching that place on the Saturday evening clos- 
ing the week of battles at Stone Eiver. Eiding about 
the town, he observed that nearly every house in it was 
a hospital. Everything was confusion and excitement. 
Immense crowds of straggling soldiers and citizens were 
gathered about the court-house and depot. Commissary 
and quartermaster stores, artillery, ammunition, and camp 
equipage, were being loaded on the cars, and trains were 
starting as fast as loaded. An evacuation was evidently, 
on hand, and that right speedily ; and he determined to 
leave as soon as possible. The only trouble was how to 
get out. ' ' 

After wandering around some time, seeking an oppor- 
tunity, he came across a train of small wagons, with which 
the neighboring farmers had come to take home their 
wounded sons and brothers. Quick to embrace opportu- 
nities, he saw that now was his chance to escape. Dis- 
mounting from his horse, he led him by the bridle, and 
walked demurely behind one of these wagons, as though 
it was in his charge. Clad in butternut, and in every 
outward appearance resembling the others accompanying 
it, the deceit was not discovered, and he safely passed all 
the pickets. It was now nearly two o'clock in the morn- 
ing, and he rode rapidly on, in a cold, driving rain, until 
fairly benumbed. Some nine miles out, he came to a 
deserted school-house, which he unceremoniously entered, 
leading his horse in after him. "VYithin, a large fire- 
place and an abundance of desks suggested the idea of a 
fire, and a huge blaze roaring and crackling on the hearth 
soon demonstrated its practicability. The next step was 



380 NEWCOMER THE SCOUT. 

to wring the water out of his well-soaked garments and 
partially dry them. 

Both horse and man enjoyed themselves here nntil near 
daybreak, when he mounted again and rode on to Kat- 
cliffe's, reaching there about three o'clock Sunday after- 
noon. Here he remained awhile to converse with his * 
friend, refresh the inner man, and care for his horse — ' 
neither havim? eaten a mouthful since the mornino^ before. 
Eatcliffe was rejoiced to see him, and wished him to re- 
main longer ; but he pushed ahead, and reached Nashville 
late that evening, wellnigh worn out with hunger, fatigue, 
and want of sleep. His report was immediately tele- 
graphed to General Eosecrans ; but he had been so long 
in making his way back that the general did not receive 
it until he had himself entered Murfreesborough. 

Late the next night he started again, with a single 
pistol and a small stock of needles, pins, and thread. 
On Monday evening he reached Eatcliffe's, and, staying 
but two hours, rode on two miles farther to the house of 
one M. H. Perryear, with whom he* remained all night. 
Thence he travelled, by way of Hart's Cross-Eoads, 
towards Caney Springs, but before reaching the latter 
place fell in with some of Wheeler's cavalry, with whom 
he rode along friendly and companionly enough. Some 
of them were old acquaintances and very confidential. 
They were, they said, just on their way to burn a lot of 
Federal wagons at Lavergne and Triune, and, deeming 
him a good fellow well met, invited him to go with them. 
Thinking that there might be some chance to save the 
wagons, he declined the invitation, urging the pressing 
nature and importance of his mission as an excuse. It 
.was soon found, however, that every avenue of escape 
northward was guarded, and the whole country filled 
with the cavalry, of whom there were, in all, about three 
thousand. There was nothing to do, then, but to leave 
the wagons to their fate and push on, which he did, and, 
arriving at Caney Springs, remained there over night. 



NEWCOMER THE SCOUT. 381 

The next morning the cavalry began to loiter back 
from their marauding expedition in squads of from fifteen 
to a hundred or more, and from them he learned the 
•complete success of the enterprise. Making the acquaint- 
ance of a lieutenant, he was told that thej were going 
at once to Harpeth Shoals, to burn a fleet of boats which 
was then on its way to Nashville. This determined him 
to abandon the idea of going to Shelbyville, and he 
accompanied a detachment back as far as Hart's Cross- 
Eoads, where they went on picket duty at a meeting- 
house by the road. Bidding them good-day, he started 
on alone towards Eatcliffe's. Stopping at Perryear's, he 
was told that Forrest was in Franklin, that the roads 
were all guarded, and that there was a picket just at 
Eatcliffe's gate. Perryear then gave him an open letter 
of introduction, recommending him to all officers and 
soldiers of the Confederate army as a true and loyal 
Southern man, engaged in business of the highest import- 
ance to the government. With this he again set out, 
and, as he had been told, found a picket at Eatcliffe's gate. 
Eequesting to be admitted, he was asked if he was a soldier, 
and, on answering negatively, was passed in without liesi- 
tation. Eatclifife corroborated Perryear's statement, say- 
ing, furthermore, that Forrest was very strict, and that it 
would be much better for him to remain there until they 
had all gone down the river. 

" But," added he, " if you must go, I'll go with you as 
far as Franklin and help you through." . 

The town was found to be full of cavalry, who were 
conscripting every man whom they cauld lay hands on. 
Eatcliffe introduced his companion to Will Forrest — a 
brother of the general, and captain of his body-guard. 
The captain was profuse of oaths and compliments, and, 
withal, so very friendly that Newcomer at once told him 
his story and business, all of which was indorsed by 
Eatclifi'e. More oaths and compliments followed. The 



382 NEWCOMER THE SCOUT. 

captain was glad to "know so important a man, and, by 
way of business, asked him if he had any pistols to sell. 

''No," was the reply; "I have nothing but a single 
navy revolver, which I carry for my own defence, and 
which I wouldn't like to part with. But I am just going 
to Nashville for more goods, and, fearing trouble in get- 
ting away, I thought I would come and see about it." 

" Oh, I guess there will b? none," said the captain. 
" The generat wants to know something about Nasljville, 
and will be very apt to send you there to get the informa- 
tion for him. Come ; let's go and see about it." 

The two set forth, and found the general, surrounded 
by the usual crowd, at his hotel. Calling him to one 
side, the captain pointed out his new friend, and, explain- 
ing who and what he was, concluded by remarking that 
he wished to go to Nashville for goods, and would bring 
him any information he desired. The, general not just 
then in the best of humor, swore very roundly that he 
knew as much about Nashville as he wanted to — it was 
men he wanted — and concluded by ordering the captain 
to conscript his friend into either his own or some other 
company. Turning on his heel, he walked briskly away, 
leaving his brother to his anger and our would-be rebel 
spy to his disappointment. The captain fumed with 
great, sulphurous oaths, and consoled Newcomer thus 
wise : — 

*' He's a fool if he is my brother. You are the 

last man I'll ever bring to him to be insulted. But you 
shan't be conscripted. Come with me, and I'll help you 
through. You can go with my company, but not as a 
soldier, and I will send you to Nashville myself. My 
company always has the advance, end there'll be plenty 
of chances." 

Making a virtue of necessity, this proposition was 
gladly accepted, and all started on the march. By this 
time Wheeler had come up and taken the lead, Forrest 
following in the centre, and Starns bringing up the rear. 



NEWCOMER THE SCOXJT. 883 

About eight miles from Franklin the whole command 
encamped for the night, and our hero slept under the 
same blanket with Captain Forrest and his lieutenant— a 
Texan ranger named Scott, whose chief amusement 
seemed to consist in lassooing dogs while on the march, 
and listening to their yelping as they were pitilessly 
dragged along behind him. Towards midnight, one of 
their spies — a Northern man, named Sharp, and formerly 
in the plough b^^siness at Nashyille — came in from the 
Cumberland Eiver. Captain Forrest introduced New- 
comer to him as a man after his own heart — " true as 
steel, and as sharp as they make 'em." 

The two spies became intimate at once, and Sharp 
belied his name by making a confidant of his new ac- 
quaintance. He had formerly been in Memphis, and 
acted as a spy for the cotton-burners. More recently he 
had been employed with Forrest ; and now he had just 
come from Harpeth Shoals, where he had learned all 
about the fleet coming up the river, and to-morrow he 
was to guide the expedition down to a place where they 
could easily be captured and burned. Early next morn-* 
ing the march was -resumed, and at the crossing of the 
Hardin pike General Forrest and staff were found wait- 
ing for them. Upon coming up, the captain was ordered 
to take his company down the Hardin pike, go on picket 
there, and remain until eleven o'clock ; when, if nothing 
was to be seen, he was to rejoin the expedition. These 
instructions were promptly carried out — a good position 
being taken on a hill some eight miles from Nashville, 
from which could be had a view of the whole country for 
many miles in every direction. About ten o'clock the 
captain came to Newcqmer and said he was going to 
send him to Nashville himself; at the same time giving 
him a list of such articles as he wished, consisting princi- 
pally of gray cloth, staff- buttons, &c. 

As may be imagined, no time was lost in starting, and 
still less in getting into Nashville, where he arrived in 



384 NEWCOMER THE SCOUT. 

due season to save tlie fleet. A force was at once sent 
out on the Hillsborough pike to cut off the retreat of the 
rebels, and another on the Charlotte pike to attack them' 
directly. The latter force succeeded in striking their 
rear-guard, and threw them into confusion, when they 
hastily fled across the Harpeth Eiver, which was at the 
time very high. Our forces, being principally infantry, 
could not cross in pursuit, but the troops on the Hills- 
borough pike succeeded in killing, wounding, and cap- 
turing considerable numbers of them. They were 
thoroughly scattered, however, and the fleet was saved 
— which was the main object of the expedition. 



THE END, 




,^^^ ^v ^ %^ 



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